


My Boss, The Devil

by usuallysunny



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Chloe is a PA, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Lucifer is the boss, Protective Lucifer, References to Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, the weirdest workplace romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usuallysunny/pseuds/usuallysunny
Summary: Growing up, of all the careers Chloe imagined for herself, personal assistant to the literal Devil was not one of them.She books his appointments, keeping a meticulous diary of all the favours he grants, and she tries her best to keep him on track—even if that track involves an absurd amount of sex, drugs and alcohol.It’s an unconventional, but purely professional, relationship… until it’s more.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 403
Kudos: 745





	1. Chapter 1

Chloe Decker was irritated.

She glared daggers at the mechanic, her arms crossed over her chest as her foot tapped an impatient pattern on the garage floor. She’d switched off ten minutes ago but he was still babbling, his voice loud and grating over the turn of his wrench.

“She really is a thing of beauty,” he breathed for the fifth time, his eyes wide and excited as he worked on the Corvette.

Chloe let out a noncommittal hum, far from enamoured with the vehicle. It was impossible to drive, ridiculously powerful, and a son of a bitch to insure. In-fact, it was as annoying as its owner. Speaking of, the young man suddenly rolled the creeper he was lying on out from under the car and asked—

“Just how rich _is_ your boss? One of these babies has got to set you back eighty grand at least.”

Chloe almost laughed. Eighty grand was pocket change for her _boss_ and it was far from the most expensive car he owned. It was just his favourite. Something about bringing back fond memories of the sexual revolution of the ‘60s and Elvis, or being a gift _from_ Elvis…. she couldn’t remember; she must have switched off then too. She just hoped for her own sake that the engine was finally fixed so she didn’t have to hear about it anymore.

“Rich,” she answered finally, her tone curt, “if you like this one, you should see his Aston.”

The man’s lips parted in disbelief, practically bristling with excitement. Chloe was almost jealous. She had been surrounded by her boss's outrageous wealth and extravagant tastes for so long, it was difficult to remember how it felt to be impressed by it.

“Is it nearly done?” she asked then, already preparing herself for the whining and subsequent headache if not.

The mechanic nodded, grabbing a cloth from a nearby hook and wiping some excess oil off his hands. He gestured towards the glove compartment and Chloe’s brow quirked at the sudden blush that coloured his cheeks.

“The engine’s all fixed, she’s good to go. I found some… clothes in the backseat that I put in there,” he cleared his throat a little awkwardly, “and there’s a stubborn stain here that I tried to get out, but I’m not sure what it is.”

Chloe didn’t bother looking.

“I don’t want to know,” she said quickly, “and trust me, neither do you.”

She _did_ flick the glove compartment open out of curiosity, wondering if the aforementioned piece of clothing was that Hermès silk tie he'd been complaining about losing. She kicked herself for not knowing better when she found more than one pair of lace panties and a Jimmy Choo heel instead.

She rolled her eyes and tipped the compartment shut.

She reached into her purse to settle the issue of payment when the shrill ring of her phone suddenly pierced the silence. She held an apologetic finger up to the mechanic and answered without looking at the screen.

She put on her best professional, lilting voice. 

“Mr Morningstar’s office.”

“Oh hello,” a woman’s voice came through on the other side, “my name’s Dr Linda Martin, I was hoping to talk to Mr Morningstar about a favour?”

“I handle all of Mr Morningstar’s appointments. My name’s Chloe. Nice to meet you. Are you aware of our terms and conditions?”

The hesitation on the other end of the line told Chloe all she needed to know. She took a breath, preparing to reel off a speech she’d made a hundred times, when the mechanic waved an invoice at her. She sandwiched the phone between her ear and shoulder as she took it, scribbling the requested number onto a blank cheque without even processing the amount. She knew it didn’t matter; money was immaterial, especially when it came to his beloved Corvette.

She ripped it off and handed it to him as she started her clinical and practiced message.

“Mr Morningstar will decide the terms of your favour upon the first meeting. He may request something in return immediately or he may grant you an ‘IOU’ to be acted upon at a later date; this is at his discretion. You will be required to sign a waiver; this is binding and dictates that Mr Morningstar cannot be held liable for any unforeseen consequences of granting your favour.”

“Okay, that’s—that’s fine,” Linda stammered the way they all did, “if I could just explain—”

“—whilst Mr Morningstar caters to and, indeed, encourages all forms of desires, he has limits and he will not grant favours that involve the following: murder, rape, theft, arson, violent crime and/or the physical or emotional torture of another human being. This is not an exhaustive list. He also asks that your favour not be boring—” this part always made her roll her eyes, “—do you understand these terms and conditions as I’ve explained them?”

The other woman let out an overwhelmed sort of squeak.

“I’m going to need verbal confirmation.”

Linda cleared her throat.

“Sorry, yes. I understand.”

“Wonderful. I can fit you in—” Chloe paused to pull out the leather diary she kept with her at all times and quickly flicked through it to find a blank space, “—tomorrow at midday, actually. We’ve had a cancellation. Come by Lux Nightclub and you can meet Lucifer.”

She hung up before the woman could say goodbye and caught the Corvette keys in her hand.  
  


* * *

  
It was late morning and Lux was mostly empty, but the club still pulsed with heat.

It hit Chloe like a solid wall as she walked inside, the humidity crawling over her skin like a blanket. She huffed and shrugged her jacket off, making her way down the stairs and to the bar.

“Jesus Christ, Maze,” she moaned as she approached, slumping onto one of the stools, “why is it always so _hot_ in here?”

The bartender shrugged, wordlessly taking two glasses and sliding one towards her. She grabbed a crystal tumbler of something amber and undoubtedly expensive and filled both glasses. Next to her, another bartender, Patrick, was cleaning some glasses while rather obnoxiously chewing gum.

“It reminds me and Lucifer of home,” Maze answered eventually, “in-fact, if it were up to me, it’d be even hotter. In Hell, we kept it at a cosy 120.”

Chloe didn’t know what it said about her… that she didn’t even bat an eyelid at these casual mentions of Hell anymore.

“Well, us humans would actually prefer not to burn alive.”

“So dramatic,” Maze pouted, “we’ll turn it down before the club opens tonight. Boss is upstairs, by the way.”

Chloe nodded and reached for her glass. She leaned over the bar to pour the amber liquid down the drain before using one of the taps to refill it with water.

“It’s half eleven,” she said flatly when Maze questioningly cocked her split brow and she went to slide off the stool, “I need to see him, we’ve got a client. I’ll see you later.”

"I wouldn’t,” Maze sang, her nonchalant expression souring slightly as Patrick loudly popped his gum again, “he’s _entertaining_.”

Chloe slumped back into her chair.

“It’s _half eleven_ ,” she reiterated.

“He’s _still_ entertaining.”

She almost rolled her eyes because of _course_ he was still in the middle of a marathon, drug-fuelled sex fest on a Wednesday morning. She didn’t know why she expected anything else.

“Who is she this time?” she asked, amused, “or he… or they…”

Maze clicked her tongue, knocking back her whiskey and hissing through her teeth at the burn as it scorched its way down her throat.

“He’s with _Eve_ ,” she said almost conspiratorially.

Chloe faltered.

“ _Again?_ ” the surprise soon turned to exasperation—because _really_ , those two made Harley Quinn and the Joker look like a healthy relationship, “I thought he broke up with her. How did she persuade him to take her back?”

Maze’s mouth curved into a smirk.

“Judging by the red latex number she turned up in last night, _easily_.”

Chloe frowned, frustrated, knowing she’d have to pick up the pieces once again when it inevitably ended—in a spectacularly explosive, messy fashion.

“They made each other miserable. I swear, he never _thinks._ ”

“Oh, he thinks,” Maze smirked, “just not with his head.”

Chloe scoffed, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. She dialled Lucifer’s number and put the phone to her ear. As it rang, she heard Maze snap at Patrick.

“Will you shut up?” she seethed, “just fucking swallow it.”

“You don’t _swallow_ gum,” he rolled his eyes disdainfully, continuing to clean some glasses.

Chloe ignored them as Lucifer finally answered with—

“Is the Corvette fixed?”

“Good morning to you too, Lucifer.”

She felt, more than heard, his husky chuckle, a low reverberation through the phone.

“My apologies, Robin,” he practically purred, that inexplicably British accent downright sinful, “Good morning. Is my car fixed?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, something she seemed to do constantly in his presence.

“Yes… and don’t call me that.”

“Lovely,” he sighed and then added, “but you _are_ the Robin to my Batman.”

“No, I’m your very professional assistant—”

“— _secretary_.”

“— _assistant_ ,” she bit out through gritted teeth, knowing _he_ knew how much that annoyed her, “can you come downstairs please? Your appointment with Dr Linda Martin is in 30 minutes.”

She heard some shuffling on the other end, a grunt from him and a high, melodic voice that could only be Eve’s.

“I’m afraid I’m rather—” he grunted again, the sound drifting away on a laugh, “— _tied up_ right now.”

Chloe ran a tired hand over her face.

“You mean that literally, don’t you?”

She heard the metallic clank of a buckle against a headboard as he undoubtedly tugged at his restraints.

“Eve’s holding the phone to my ear,” he informed her cheerfully.

“Can you put her on please?”

There was some shuffling on the other side of the phone, a husky _“she wants to speak to you, darling”_ and then Chloe heard a voice she had childishly hoped, deep down, was a thing of the past.

“Hey Robin!”

The nickname set her teeth on edge, especially coming from her _._

“Chloe,” she corrected, her tone clipped, before she lied, “it’s good to hear from you again, Eve. I won’t come up as I understand you’re _busy…_ but do you think you could wrap it up? Lucifer has an appointment at 12.”

“Sure thing, Chlo!” she chirped, _incessantly_ chipper as always, and Chloe thought she might hate that nickname more, “he’ll be right down.”

She clicked the ‘end call’ button with her thumb, but not before her ears burned with the unmistakable crack of a whip against the air, followed by Lucifer’s positively delighted “ _naughty girl!”._

Chloe closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to five in her head. She put the phone down on the bar as Maze started pondering out-loud.

“You know, I’m glad you’re around because you’re pretty cool for a human, but I’ve been by Lucifer’s side for _eons_. I literally followed him through the gates of Hell. I don’t get why he needs a human assistant. I don’t get why he _relies_ on you so much,” her nose scrunched in disgust, like that was something to be ashamed of, “I mean, I have mad people skills. What do you have that I don’t?”

In an ill-timed move, Patrick chose that moment to blow a huge bubble with his gum and pop it. Maze snapped, demonstrating those _people skills_ by grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and slamming his face down onto the bar’s surface. He yelped as a sickening crack rang out and Chloe cringed.

“Beats me, Maze,” she said dryly, and waited for Lucifer to come downstairs.  
  


* * *

  
“For god’s sake,” Chloe muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Oh certainly not,” Lucifer purred at the mention of his Father, “for _mine_.”

He gave Dr Linda Martin a crooked smile, seemingly delighted by her favour, a very simple request for sex. Chloe didn’t particularly _blame_ the woman—a fair share of favours asked of Lucifer involved sex—but she _was_ a little disappointed. She’d hoped for something more interesting.

“No need to be embarrassed, darling,” Lucifer reassured Dr Martin, whose cheeks were flaring pink, “I’m like walking heroin… and you’re only human.”

The therapist shifted in the booth, something breaking through her glazed eyes. She coughed and the blush intensified, as though she’d been brought back to reality. Her eyes slid to Chloe, leaning against the piano. She must have noticed her unimpressed expression and eyeroll because she glanced uneasily back to Lucifer.

He just laughed.

“Oh, don’t compare yourself to her,” he said dismissively, “I’m still trying to work out what she is.”

Chloe threw him a flat look, crossing her arms over her chest. It had taken him a long time to accept she was seemingly the only woman in LA immune to his ‘charms’. She knew he was attractive—she had _eyes_ —but he was also wildly infuriating and narcissistic. He had enough baggage to fill a small island; _daddy-issues_ didn’t even scratch the surface, and he was the _literal devil_.

He _was_ intoxicating to be around, charismatic and magnetic, and she _had_ come to care for him... but she knew better than to be swept away. Pretty faces could be dangerous—and Lucifer Morningstar’s was very pretty indeed.

“My relationship with my ex-husband didn’t exactly end well,” Linda started, “and it’s been a while since… well, you know. Women have needs and _you_ … well, you have quite the reputation.”

The corner of Lucifer’s mouth twitched.

 _He’s loving this_ , Chloe thought, _the smug bastard._

“Trust me, darling,” he crooned, casually twirling a strand of her blonde hair around his finger, “I know all about your _needs_.”

Linda’s eyes sparkled.

“I know you’d make it good for me… and with it being a favour and all, a _no strings attached_ arrangement, that suits me perfectly. I’m a professional woman who doesn’t have the time, nor the inclination, for a relationship.”

Chloe concealed her laugh with a cough. _Professional, indeed._

He leaned in, his arm coming up to rest on the back of the booth in one smooth movement. It brought him closer to Linda who flushed in anticipation, putty in his hands. He didn’t need to use his famous mojo, his ability to draw out people’s hidden desires. Her desire was plain to see. Chloe was still unmoved, unsurprised. Lucifer _commanded_ attention, moulding people like clay, into just the shapes he wanted them in. She knew her own refusal to bend, to break, frustrated him to no end. 

“Uh, Lucifer?” Chloe asked.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting about Eve?”

He just smiled, sinful and slow, and kept his eyes on Linda.

“Oh, she’s not the jealous type.”

 _Right,_ Chloe kicked herself for even _thinking_ that relationship could be exclusive.

 _Lucifer doesn’t do commitment,_ she reminded herself.

She sighed and picked up her little black book from the piano, clutching it against her chest.

“I’ll draw up the paperwork,” she muttered, and left them to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, back again🤗
> 
> I often suck at multichapter stories because I lose inspiration, but I've fleshed out a plan for this story so hopefully will be able to stick to it. I'm going through a really hard time at the moment, lots of drama and sadness in my real life, and writing is such an escape for me. And being able to share it and maybe make a few others happy for a time is a huge bonus. This was kind of inspired by the TV series Rush because I am a slut for Tom Ellis and I totally think a slow burn romance, friends-to-lovers thing built on respect and trust is where Rush and Eve were headed before the show was cancelled💔 I just love the idea of Chloe being the only woman who is different to Lucifer - in any universe.
> 
> Anyway, if you did enjoy it and want me to carry on please do comment - because I'm a slut for those too 😈


	2. Chapter 2

“You are the _vainest_ man I have ever met.”

Chloe stared at the ceiling in exasperation, wanting to tear more of her hair out with every new suit Lucifer tried on.

She was sitting on the edge of his ridiculously large bed as he preened in-front of the mirror. He was wearing the black Burberry now, expensive scraps of Armani and Tom Ford laid out around her. She folded the trousers and jackets as he discarded them, cursing him all the while.

“Thank you,” he eventually answered, giving a prim tug on his jacket.

He seemed to have settled on this suit and his brow arched as he _finally_ stopped looking at himself and drew his eyes away from the mirror. He glanced around the room, looking for something. Chloe read his mind.

She stood and made her way over to his (frankly ludicrous) closet. She moved on autopilot, the sort of comfortable ease that came from years of knowing and trusting someone, as she pulled a drawer open and grabbed a scrap of material.

She moved over to him, adjusting his jacket before she slipped the material into the front pocket. She tugged at it and arranged it until it was perfect. She felt the heat of his eyes on her all the while, a mixture of intrigued and bemused. 

Once she was done, his eyes flickered down.

“A gingham pocket square? How aggressive…” he hummed before his tone changed direction, “I love it.”

Her lips twitched without her permission, a reluctant smile curving across her face, as she patted his chest twice.

“Who knows you better than me, huh?”

He made a low noise from the back of his throat—half a hum, half a grumble—before he brushed some invisible fluff off his lapels.

She sat back on the bed as he went back to looking at himself in the mirror.

“Okay, so plan for the evening,” she started, bringing her hands together in a short clap, “Delilah said she might swing by around 10—you still haven’t decided what you want in return for making her famous—and I think that might be all. I need to check your schedule.”

He watched her silently as she moved a pair of Armani trousers out of the way and found her leather diary underneath. She opened it and flicked to the day’s date. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes before he went back to watching his reflection adjust his cuffs.

"You know, that isn’t what little black books are for," he said dryly.

Chloe rolled her eyes right back because _of course_ he could turn an inanimate object into a reference to sex.

“You mock, but you would be lost without my _little black book_.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Yes, but I still wish you would let me put some numbers in there. I know plenty of men who bat for both teams. I’m sure one of them would be willing to date you.”

“How generous of you.”

“Seriously, darling, how long has it been?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I am _not_ discussing that with you.”

Lucifer remained unfazed, tipping his head to the side as he surveyed himself in the mirror.

“I’m only thinking of you, Robin,” he crooned, “I hate to see you unsatisfied, that’s all.”

“I think you get enough satisfaction for the both of us.”

He smirked as he turned from the mirror to look at her. She stood and brushed down her dress, a little black number that dipped low to her back. She noticed his dark eyes do a sweep of her, starting from her face and dragging all the way to her silver heels and back. He was shameless about it, totally unapologetic, and it felt almost like a test.

That was how it always was between them. She tried to stay unreadable to him; he tried to work her out.

“You look nice,” he said eventually, his tone casual.

“Thank you,” she replied, her hands smoothing over her stomach, a little uncomfortable outside of her normal t-shirt and jeans, “I’m excited to see Delilah again.”

She went to walk past him, ready to head down to the raging party in the club downstairs, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. It was a soft tug, the metal of his ring gently rasping over her palm. Her lips parted in surprise as she searched his face and found an expression she couldn’t quite read.

He always burned too hot and his hand was warm in hers. Inexplicably, her own tingled from the loss when he let her go.

“Don’t forget what we’re doing here,” his voice was quiet but it was an order nonetheless, “the favours we grant, the clients, the work we do… it’s just business, just a transaction. You can’t allow yourself to get attached. We do not care and we do not feel.”

She blinked at him, wondering how he could be so sure and yet so _wrong_.

She _knew_ he cared about Delilah. He wanted her to succeed and he did his best to ensure she did—and even putting her aside, Chloe was sure of something else.

“Lucifer, if that was true…” she started, “you would never have asked me to work for you.”  
  


* * *

  
Chloe watched as the young girl made her way through the crowd, her smile bright and wide against a backdrop of strobe lights and smoke.

“Delilah,” she greeted warmly when they met, enveloping her in a hug. The other girl hugged her back before they both sank into seats at the bar. Maze wordlessly slid two cocktail glasses towards them, resting them on blood red napkins.

Delilah took a sip of her drink, adjusting the hem of her dress as it rode up her thigh.

“How have you been?” she asked.

“Not as good as you,” Chloe nudged her shoulder playfully, “Miss _Number-One-Debut-Album_.”

Delilah gave a coy laugh, a blush painting high on her cheeks. Chloe thought it was endearing, how she had sky-rocketed to fame, guided by Lucifer’s hand, yet she still looked so much like that nervous young girl who had wandered into Lux all those years ago, looking for a job.

Lucifer had helped her nurture her talent, spending countless nights accompanying her on the piano while she sang. It had been a beautiful thing, to watch them together—and though he’d refuse to admit it and liked to pretend he didn’t care, Chloe knew he missed her.

She told her as much.

“He misses you, you know,” she said softly, her eyes flickering over to the dancers on the other side of the club, “none of them can sing like you can, and we all know _I_ sound like a strangled cat. He loves music. I think he misses sharing it with someone.”

“I miss him too,” she admitted, “I miss all of you. I’m so grateful for what Lucifer did for me, all the contacts he introduced me to and how he helped launch my career… but sometimes I think the best years of my life were here.”

Chloe smiled sympathetically. She knew how it felt to feel alone, to believe there was no-one in the world who loved you, and Lux _was_ a strange sort of sanctuary for the broken.

“Anyway, enough of the depressing heart to hearts,” Delilah was continuing before Chloe could reply, her tone turning light, “where _is_ the boss? He can’t be far if you’re here.”

Chloe’s brows drew into a confused frown.

“What do you mean?”

Delilah blinked as though it were obvious.

“Come on! Where you go, he goes,” she laughed and gestured to the club as a whole, “the girls and I used to always say you were the true power behind all this. Lucifer _listens_ to you. More than anyone.”

Chloe shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat.

“I don’t think anyone could _make_ Lucifer do anything,” she said dryly because the man truly was a law unto himself. He was the original rebel, after-all.

And yet—

“ _Please_ ,” Delilah was scoffing, “if he said no to us, we would just go to you so you could persuade him.”

Chloe’s nose scrunched.

“What were we, your _parents_?”

She shrugged.

“I mean… kinda.”

Chloe shook her head and laughed, placing a hand on the girl’s thigh. She gave it a squeeze—a simple, affectionate gesture—but drew back in surprise when she winced.

Delilah quickly tried to cover it up, faking a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Chloe frowned, her fingers pushing the hem of her dress up before she could stop her. She bit back a gasp at the purplish bruise mottling her pale thigh, spreading over the skin like a spider’s web. Delilah seemed resigned and defeated as Chloe took her arm and pushed her sleeve up too, cold dread settling like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach at the track lines that lay there.

Visions seared unbidden behind her eyes—flashes of booze, drugs, and bruises marring her own skin. She tried to shake them off. That was a different Chloe, a different life, but the memories were still painful.

“Delilah, are you in trouble?”

She shook her head quickly, her walls constructed high around her. Chloe knew that look too. She slid off the barstool and grabbed her drink. Chloe’s own remained untouched on the bar.

“I promised I’d sign some autographs,” she made an excuse but Chloe didn’t miss how her hands were trembling.

She grabbed one of them.

“Is it Jimmy Barnes?” she asked, “did he hurt you? Is that why you called off the wedding?”

Delilah didn’t reply, but she had never had a good poker face. The fear etched on her face was answer enough.

“Please don’t tell Lucifer,” she whispered.

Chloe stared at her, knowing she couldn’t promise that, before Delilah slipped off to talk to the man in question.  
  


* * *

  
Chloe was still sitting at the bar, chewing her thumbnail, when Lucifer appeared. He rested his back against the bar, his hip level with her from where she was sitting on the stool. Even before Maze had slid his usual glass of Macallan towards him, he carried an air of whiskey and smoke, drifting on expensive cologne. 

Her eyes connected with his significantly, the air heavy with implication. Delilah had asked her not to tell him, but judging by his expression, she didn’t need to.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Chloe nodded and tried to ignore the heavy ache in her chest, the one brought on by painful memories being dragged kicking and screaming to the surface. She saw herself in Delilah, young and naïve and desperate for her big break. It had been acting for her, rather than singing, but the mistakes were the same. They both trusted the wrong people, powerful men who hurt them rather than helped them.

“Yeah,” she answered eventually, the word lodging in her throat on the first try, “it’s just—seeing those bruises on her…” she shook her head and tried to push it all down, “memories, you know?”

The corner of Lucifer’s mouth twitched into a wry smile.

“I know,” he said gently, “but Chloe, Jimmy Barnes… he’s not—”

She bristled, both at her own name—something he only ever used when he was serious—and the implication of another. She didn’t want to hear _his_ name; she didn’t even want to think it.

“—I know,” she insisted, “I know he’s not. That part of my life is over.”

“As it is for Delilah,” he said, his tone turning a little dangerous, “no need to go reaching for your little black book, but I collected on my debt.”

“What was the payment? Please don’t say sex.”

“What do you take me for?” he asked primly, offended by the idea that he’d need to bargain for _that_ , “besides, between Eve and the good doctor… well, even the Devil needs an evening to recharge.”

“My heart bleeds for you and your tired dick,” she said sarcastically.

His brows rose, almost impressed, before he told her what he actually demanded of Delilah.

“She was worried she’d sold her soul to the Devil,” he smirked, amused by the concept, “I told her that would imply I was actually _interested_ in her soul. I told her I merely introduced her to a few key people who owed me favours—obviously now I will be paying Jimmy Barnes a visit myself.”

“He hurt her, didn’t he?”

Something dark and guarded passed over Lucifer’s expression.

“I only introduced her to him because I thought he could help her career...”

Chloe knew where this was headed and she tried to stop it in its tracks, keep it from veering off course and destroying how far he’d come, how much he’d grown.

“It’s not your fault, Lucifer.”

He shrugged, an almost imperceptible movement of a well cut suit, but she knew he didn’t entirely believe her.

“Either way… I told her to come to me if she needed help, that I didn't want her to waste her talent or her life. I told her to stay away from the alcohol and drugs and abusive producers. In-fact, it reminded me of a conversation I had a few years ago. Gave me quite the pesky case of déjà vu.”

Chloe smiled, a soft and melancholy smile. She could still hear him now, the words he’d used when he’d saved her.

“You going to trade me in for a younger model?”

He shook his head.

“You frustrate me to no end—but unfortunately _you_ , my dear, are irreplaceable.”

She appreciated the sentiment and went to reply, but then Delilah reappeared, swinging an arm around her shoulder.

“I’m going to do it,” she announced brightly, “I’m going to get my life together. I promise, Lucifer.”

He pushed off the bar and enveloped her in a hug.

“It’s up to you now, darling.”

Chloe said a final goodbye to Delilah as Lucifer took her arm and walked her out.

She gratefully accepted the Cosmo Maze slid towards her. They made idle conversation for a few minutes, totally at ease, before the pop of gunshots suddenly rained like fireworks outside the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments, I was blown away!! 
> 
> Next chapter will be dedicated to how Chloe and Lucifer met, and how she handled the devil reveal - then we will jump back into the aftermath of this shooting. Chloe's past is the last plot point that was inspired by Rush so with that, and the references in this chapter, you can probably take a guess at her sort of background. Stay safe and happy everyone <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of abuse/domestic violence. Read carefully, my loves.

**_Summer, 3 years ago._ **

**_Part I._ **

Chloe met Lucifer Morningstar on a Friday.

Like many encounters, it was entirely by accident.

The morning Californian sun, balmy and warm, streamed in through the window, bathing her in soft light. She hummed sleepily as she turned over, hearing the rasp of the white sheets as her body moved, and found herself clutching at thin air on the other side of the bed. When she heard footsteps approaching, someone entering the room, she assumed her boyfriend had gone back on his decision to fly out of town early.

She tried not to dwell on how that made her anxious, not happy. She had thought his trip to New York to visit with some potential producers and investors for his new film would give her some reprieve. The idea that he was still here sent a rock of cold dread plummeting to the pit of her stomach.

She slowly blinked to life, twisting until she was sitting up, the sheets falling down and pooling at her naked waist.

“Mmm, good morning.”

“It certainly is now.”

An amused voice—deep and _British_ and definitely _not_ her boyfriend’s—purred.

Chloe’s eyes widened, a surprised squeak falling from her lips as she grabbed the sheets and clutched them to her breasts.

There, standing against the doorframe with his brow arched and arms crossed over his chest, was a very tall, very handsome, very _uninvited_ stranger.

“Who are you?” she exclaimed, clutching the sheet tighter to her chest, “get out!”

He pushed off the doorframe and took a step forwards instead.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he only addressed the first part of her outrage, “and you must be Chloe Decker. I’d recognise those—” his amused gaze flickered to her sheet-covered chest before they dragged up to her face again, “— _eyes_ anywhere.”

Chloe rolled said eyes, catching the reference to her film _Hot Tub High School—_ or more specifically, a scene in the film where she was topless. It wasn’t exactly her proudest work, but still her most famous.

“Yes, you’ve seen my boobies, it’s very exciting,” she quipped sarcastically, “what are you, _twelve?_ ”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes sparkling as though he was in on a secret he wasn’t sharing.

“A little off.”

“Whatever, get out,” she snapped, “do you make a habit of breaking into people’s homes?”

“The door was open,” he fired back, “you should be more careful—LA is simply _full_ of dangerous reprobates.”

She blinked at him, as though to say _there’s one standing in-front of me right now._

“This is my boyfriend’s house.”

“I know,” Lucifer replied calmly, “if your boyfriend is Jed Moore, that is.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes.

“He’s out of town.”

He clicked his tongue, as though that was very inconvenient.

“No matter,” he said regardless, his tone breezy, “I have some business to discuss with him, but it can wait. Do you happen to know when he’ll be back?”

Chloe threw him a flat expression. He was outrageously confident and audacious for a man who had quite literally wandered uninvited into her home. She gestured for him to turn around, waiting until he did to slip out of bed and shrug a robe on. She tied the belt a little more aggressively than usual and took a step towards him.

“Get out or I’m calling the police.”

She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, shoving him out the door.

“Well, if you don’t know, I doubt they will.”

She rolled her eyes again and pushed him out, his husky chuckle carrying through the door as she slammed it.

She turned around to slump against the wood and prayed to _God_ that was the last time she saw Lucifer Morningstar.  
  


* * *

  
God clearly wasn’t listening—as he hadn’t been for most of Chloe’s life—because the very next week, Lucifer Morningstar was standing by the pool.

Chloe’s brow rose as she made her way downstairs from the bedroom, her fingers dancing down the bannister as she kept her eyes on him through the glass. She could see the sun glinting off the water like sapphire jewels, the picture of opulence. Jed was there too, engaging Lucifer in conversation, and though they were a similar height, he somehow seemed smaller in comparison. She had met the man all of one (very unpleasant) time, but he seemed to command attention, carrying a calm energy with him and holding himself with a devil-may-care attitude that bordered on the dangerous.

Chloe had experienced her fair share of dangerous men. She _knew_ dangerous men.

Speaking of, her boyfriend turned to greet her as she approached. He wrapped an arm around her and brought her in close, his fingers biting into her waist possessively. Lucifer’s expression remained unaffected except for the delicate arch of his brow.

“Lucifer, this is my girlfriend Chloe,” Jed gestured to her, “Chloe, Lucifer.”

Lucifer smiled, slow and disarming.

“Oh, we’ve met, I believe.”

She felt Jed stiffen in surprise, her blood turning cold in response. He was jealous and possessive and she hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea.

“Last week,” Lucifer clarified smoothly, “I came by looking for you. You’re a hard man to pin down, but I suppose your debt might have something to do with that.”

Chloe frowned, glancing to Jed.

“Debt?” she asked.

His jaw ticked in annoyance, as though she shouldn’t be questioning him.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he cooed patronisingly, “why don’t you go inside and fetch us some drinks? Whiskey. The good stuff. Don’t come back here with any of that cheap shit, he won’t let me get away with that!”

He gave a loud laugh as Chloe lifted her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The movement brought Lucifer’s attention to her wrist, the sleeve of her shirt having fallen down slightly. Her heart leapt to her throat as his eyes flickered to the fingerprint-shaped bruises she knew were branded there, a vice like grip brought on by one of Jed’s bad moods. 

Lucifer’s expression remained calm, unruffled, but she _swore_ his eyes burned.

“No,” he said quietly, “I won’t.”  
  


* * *

  
The next time Chloe met Lucifer Morningstar, it was on his own turf.

“He owns this place?” she asked, her eyes drifting to the sky to try and find the top of the skyscraper. Jed grumbled something in response, noncommittal and irritated, as she blinked, “the entire building?”

“ _Yes_ , the entire building,” he hissed mockingly, grabbing her hand none-too-gently. He pulled her close, his eyes glittering dark and threatening in the cold night air, “do _not_ embarrass me tonight. Do you understand?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, pulling her hand back.

As she followed him inside the club, the bouncers recognising him and letting them jump the queue, Chloe wondered how she got here, inextricably bound to a man she didn’t love. A man who abused her, who cut her down with his words just as often as his fists, who left her wondering if it would ever get better, or just get worse until she died.

And the worst part was… if she left him, she would be entirely alone.

She had felt untethered since her dad died, the one person in the world who loved her, shot in the line of duty when she was nineteen. She wasn’t an orphan, but her mother could only be called such in the loosest of terms. Penelope Decker was more interested in her next fix, her next boyfriend, than she was in looking after her daughter. So Chloe had been left to fend for herself and, in her darkest moments, she wondered how she’d made such a _mess_ of it.

 _Hot Tub High School_ had been her big break, but the roles had been few and far between since then. Hollywood had eaten her up and spat her out.

She wondered if it was all for nothing, because she was in her mid-twenties now and what did she have to show for it? A few direct-to-DVD movies as a child actress, a topless scene in a part that didn’t _exactly_ grant her ‘serious actor’ status, and a guest spot on an episode here and there. Not only that, but she had fallen in love with an up and coming, budding director who promised her the world and didn’t deliver.

Or maybe she hadn’t. Chloe wasn’t sure if she loved Jed in the beginning, when everything was shiny and new. She certainly didn’t love him once the shine had worn off, when the cracks underneath began to show. His own career had already dried up, a desperation she was sure had driven him here, to Lucifer Morningstar and his apparent business of granting favours, and he had introduced her to nothing but drugs and alcohol and the cold sting of the back of his hand. She felt like a trapped animal, too scared to bolt even if she could, because she simply had nothing else.

Jed had worn down her self-worth until there was nothing left, had made her believe no-one else could ever love her. Staring down the cold barrel of loneliness, Chloe had just… accepted it.

She didn’t know there was any other way.

Until Lucifer.  
  


* * *

  
Lucifer’s eyes lit up with recognition when he saw her, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before he schooled his expression into smooth indifference.

As they met their ‘friends’—Jed’s, not hers—Lucifer subtly took her hand and pulled her away from the crowd. Chloe’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes flickering nervously from him, to Jed, and back again. Her boyfriend was preoccupied, a little blonde thing hanging off his arm, and Chloe couldn’t bring herself to care.

Lucifer’s hand was warm in hers, almost burning to the touch. She got the impression it had little to do with the humid air, the sticky, heady atmosphere as the club pulsed and vibrated like a living thing. She let him drag her outside, more out of curiosity than anything else, until they were around the back of the club, in a desolated smoking area.

Her fingers tingled inexplicably from the emptiness when he let her go.

He was silent as Chloe counted the seconds, watching him blankly as he pulled a steel, undoubtedly expensive, cigarette holder from his trouser pocket and slipped one between his teeth. He held it out to her, his brow arched in a silent question.

“No thanks,” she found her voice, shaking her head, “trying to quit.”

His mouth pulled into a wry smile around the cigarette as he found his lighter, striking up the end.

He held her eyes as he took a drag and blew the smoke away from her.

“Not your vice of choice, hmm?” he asked. There was a flash of white as he held the cigarette between his teeth again and reached into another pocket, this time on the inside of his suit. He pulled out a small packet of white powder.

Chloe laughed but there was little humour in it.

“ _Definitely_ trying to quit that.”

He smirked, slipping the packet back where it came from.

“Seems like there are a lot of things you should quit,” he said.

She swallowed at the implication, the way he was breathing life into what he had seen before. She preferred to push it all down, what Jed did to her, the cuts and bruises on her skin and the taste of vodka in her mouth, but Lucifer seemed to smell weakness like blood in the water.

He demanded to see and be seen.

"Who _are_ you?" her own voice was demanding and sharp as she asked the question, "and what sort of name is Lucifer Morningstar anyway? Is it a stage name or something?"

Lucifer grinned.

"God-given, I'm afraid."

"What do you do?"

"Own a nightclub," he answered easily, "amongst other things."

She narrowed her eyes.

"How old are you?"

"Older than I look," he teased.

She huffed, irritated by his evasiveness. Before she could fire her next question at him and before he could bat it away, he asked a question himself.

“I’m not one to victim-blame... but why do you stay with him?”

Chloe’s defences came flying up around her as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall of the club. The brick was cool and damp against the thin material of her dress, causing a shudder to trace down her spine.

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He was unmoved, unoffended.

“Your boyfriend owes me, darling.”

Chloe’s gut churned with nerves, cold dread settling over her. Her mind jumped immediately to the worst case scenario, that perhaps this man, a little mysterious and a _lot_ dangerous, would seek to collect his _debt_ elsewhere. He certainly looked at her like she was something to be devoured, his eyes steely and dark.

“I figured as much,” she said, “I heard you grant favours.”

“Been asking about me, have you?”

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” she said wryly, “once I mentioned your name, everyone had something to say about you.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Not really,” she fired back, “but I’m sure you didn’t bring me out here to talk about your reputation. What do you want?”

He smiled, charming but no less dangerous. He took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Originally I wanted your no-good boyfriend to pay me back for the favour I granted him. Those producers in New York refused to even meet him until I pulled some strings. I’m not the only one with a reputation, darling, and your _boyfriend_ is a liability. No-one will work with him. He’s finished. But I still set up the meetings and I wanted my payment.”

“ _Wanted_?” she noted the past tense.

“Then I saw the bruises on you,” he said, “I saw the dull look in your eye… and I wanted to punish him more. That’s sort of my _thing_ , you see. He hurts you, doesn’t he?”

She swallowed and dragged her eyes away, burning under the weight of his stare. It was answer enough. He sighed and tossed his cigarette down, stubbing it out with the tip of an expensive Italian loafer.

“You shouldn’t be with him,” he said, all matter of fact, “you’re wasting your talent, your life. Surely this isn’t the life you would have chosen for yourself?”

She felt defensive, but more than that, she felt _tired._ She wanted release, wanted this crushing weight off her chest.

“No, it’s not.”

A small hum rolled from the back of his throat. It was a deep and husky sound and it shot straight between her thighs. She shoved the feeling down.

He was nosy and infuriating and she was _not_ attracted to him.

She _wasn’t_.

“So then tell me, darling,” he crooned, placing one hand on the wall next to her and leaning in, “what is it you truly desire?”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, feeling utterly surrounded by him. The air he carried with him was intoxicating—it was the cut of a well-tailored suit, the smell of expensive cologne, the heat of whisky and cigarette smoke. She fought to claw her way to the surface, to not let another man take hold of her.

He looked into her eyes and she felt a strange pull, a magnetic pulse. She fought against that too.

“What do you want me to say?” she shrugged sarcastically, “that I’m wasting my life trying to make it as an actress when deep down, if I’m honest with myself, I always wanted to be a cop like my daddy? That I want to get away from my abusive shit of a boyfriend and live my own life and wake up one morning and feel like I can _breathe_?”

Lucifer drew back, his brows pulling into a frown as his dark eyes searched her face. For the first time since she met him, he looked truly rattled.

“Is that…” he cleared his throat, searching her eyes, “ _is_ that what you truly desire?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed away from him.

“What I _truly desire_ ,” she mocked, finding him very strange indeed, “is for this conversation to be over.”

She began to walk inside and was almost surprised when she found he wasn’t following her. She turned around, somehow annoyed he wasn’t following her and annoyed at herself for _being_ annoyed. Her head was spinning.

He had tied her up in knots and she didn’t like it.

“What?” she asked sharply, “no smart-ass reply to that?” 

Lucifer’s jaw ticked, his shoulders pulling taut under the expensive material of his suit. She could practically _see_ the cogs in his head turning and she wondered if she had tied him up in knots too.

She doubted she had that kind of power and _yet—_ he still looked confused, surprised.

“Look, I don’t—” she shook her head, pausing to close her eyes and take a breath, “—I don’t have anyone else.”

It was a difficult thing to admit, a painful thing, and finally Lucifer blinked as though he had been brought back to earth.

He took a step towards her, his expression strangely unreadable.

“You do now,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm splitting Chloe and Lucifer's backstory into two chapters, hope that's okay! 
> 
> I just reached the same word limit as the two previous chapters and realised I was nowhere near done telling this part of their story! Hope you enjoyed the first bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Summer, 3 years ago._ **

**_Part II._ **

Chloe sat in one of the back rooms in Lux, her knee bouncing erratically. 

Lucifer and Jed were talking, the air thin and their words tense, and a horrible sense of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach. In the distance, she could hear the party in the club raging on, a pulsing beat pounding through the floor.

“I told you, I don’t have the money yet,” Jed bit out in a frustrated tone she knew all too well, “those _producers_ you introduced me to were useless. They wouldn’t know talent if it hit them in the face.”

Lucifer sat back in his chair, folding his hands over the desk.

“Those _producers_ have had a streak of eleven consecutive films grossing one hundred million dollars worldwide,” he said calmly.

Predictably, the reply only seemed to anger Jed, who tensed next to her.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he fumed, “they were pricks. In-fact, seeing as I asked you to help revive my career, and you _didn’t_ , I don’t see why I should pay you in the first place.”

Chloe fought the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t have to have been there to know Jed would have been arrogant and rude at the meeting, his ego over-inflated. He thought himself the next Tarantino—a misunderstood, tortured, creative genius—when in reality, he could barely hold a camera. The producers probably laughed him all the way back to California. He was depressingly predictable that way.

“You asked me to introduce you to some contacts,” Lucifer corrected, “which I did. As far as your so-called _career_ is concerned… I’m in the business of granting favours, not miracles.”

Chloe pursed her lips to conceal a laugh. The man was undoubtedly ridiculous and confusing and an outrageous flirt, but he was quite amusing too. Not that she would ever admit it, of course.

“Well as I said, I don’t have the money.”

Lucifer arched a brow.

“What about your other ventures?” he asked, “I know you don’t just have your finger in the _failed director_ pie.”

Jed’s eye twitched.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Lucifer smiled, dangerous and slow.

“Come on, Jeddy,” he crooned, “we’re both businessmen, you know exactly what I mean…but I’ll be blunt. I hear you’ve created quite the drug empire for yourself. I know just last month, you were moving shipments of cocaine across state lines.”

Chloe watched Jed’s reaction, wondering if he would admit to it. She supposed there was no-one else in the room and his ego meant he was probably _proud_ of his crimes.

“What’s it to you?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I’m merely pointing out that you _could_ pay me—unless the rumours I’ve heard have been vastly exaggerated and you’re just a low level junkie. Oh, that _would_ be disappointing.”

Jed stiffened, his anger flaring.

“I’m the best trafficker on the West Coast,” he boasted, “there’s not a drug I haven’t taken or sold. That shipment you were talking about? It was across the Mexican border, not state lines, and worth over two million dollars. Does that sound low level to you?”

“Oh no,” Lucifer smirked but his tone was clearly mocking, “certainly not.”

Jed sat back in satisfaction, too arrogant to realise he had played straight into Lucifer’s hands. The other man quickly changed the subject, completely in control.

“It’s irrelevant,” he said, “because I don’t actually want your money at all.”

Chloe’s eyes slid slowly to Jed and she saw his brows furrow in confusion.

“What do you want then?”

Lucifer leaned forward, tenting his hands over his mouth. His eyes were dark and intense in the half-light.

Chloe felt a shiver of anticipation curl through her belly.

“Your confession.”

Jed shifted in his seat, a flicker of nerves passing over his features before he schooled them into arrogance again.

 _I wanted to punish him,_ Lucifer’s voice echoed in her mind, _that’s sort of my thing, you see._

She liked watching Jed squirm, feeling cautiously optimistic about this strange man’s ability to ‘punish’.

“Confession about what?” Jed seethed.

Lucifer’s piercing gaze dragged slowly to Chloe, his eyes falling to the bruises he had seen on her wrists, the ones that hadn’t healed yet. He probably knew she had more, littered on her body, and mental scars too, less visible but painful all the same.

“What you do to your girlfriend,” Lucifer said, “and to many others, I’m sure.”

Jed’s top lip curled, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The corner of Lucifer’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t quite a smile.

“It’s truly baffling to me…” Lucifer started, “how you can put your hands on a woman and still call yourself a man. You know, there’s a special circle in Hell for domestic abusers.”

Chloe thought it was just a saying. She had no idea that mere moments later, she would learn Lucifer’s true nature, that he didn’t speak in metaphors, but in fact.

She had no idea her life was about to change for good.

Jed’s eyes flicked from her, to Lucifer and back again before they flashed with a misguided revelation. He read the situation wrong because he _always_ read the situation wrong—because he wasn’t a genius at all. He was a scared, insecure little boy, and Chloe couldn’t wait to be rid of him. She felt her power grow with every passing moment, her fear turned to strength. 

A murderous expression flashed over his face—but she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

“What is this?” he breathed out, his eyes darting between them again as they held each other’s gaze, “are you fucking him?”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened.

“Careful, Moore,” he warned.

“ _Careful_?” Jed repeated in outrage, blinking twice before he returned his furious gaze to her, “you spread your legs for him, didn’t you? You fucking _whore_.”

Before she could blink, all hell broke loose. The two men were up on their feet at the same time, Chloe knocked to the ground as Jed tried to get at her. Her head hit the ground with a sickening crack and she flinched, her vision going blurry. Through the chaos, Lucifer and Jed’s figures were hazy and indistinct as Lucifer slammed him into a corner and lifted him up the wall. Her mind struggled to make sense of it, her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage, at the almost supernatural display of strength. Jed’s feet were thrashing wildly off the floor.

Lucifer must have thought she was unconscious because his eyes darted to her to check before he returned his attention to Jed.

“I’m glad she won’t see this. She doesn’t deserve to,” he started cryptically as Jed writhed and gasped under the iron-tight grip on his neck, “but _you…_ oh, you would be fun to punish. You need to pay, to suffer, but I can’t end your sorry life. You would end up in Hell, but I’m… _here_ … so what good is that?”

“ _Please_ ,” she heard Jed’s desperate wheeze.

“Please?” Lucifer repeated scornfully, “how many times did _she_ say please? It didn’t work then; it won’t work now. You’re a piece of shit, Jed, and I can’t punish you in Hell, but I _can_ leave you to deal with this for the rest of your pathetic life.”

The air suddenly shifted and changed, an electrical current passing through it. The room became warmer, beads of sweat forming on the back of Chloe’s neck as flames licked at her insides, and then Jed let out a piercing scream.

She felt the sound like a chill in her bones and had to see what caused it.

She fought to keep her eyes open, to blink through the haze and make them focus. As her pupils dilated, the blurred edges at the corner of her vision lifting, she _saw_. Lucifer’s face had morphed into something monstrous, the handsome lines turned into sharp, jagged red edges. It was all raised scar tissue and eyes burning bright and crimson and she couldn’t _breathe_.

She couldn’t make sense of it.

He must have noticed her sharp intake of breath, her surprise, because when he turned around, his face was back to normal again. There was a hint of something else behind his eyes, something surprised and vulnerable, and his jaw clenched tight.

He dragged his gaze away from her.

He dropped Jed into a whimpering heap on the floor and casually adjusted his cuffs.

“Did you get all that?” he suddenly called out to someone.

There was a click and a sudden flood of light as the wall behind them revealed itself to be a two-way mirror.

A man was on the other side, his finger holding down an intercom button.

“Not the bit where you pushed him in the corner,” the man rolled his eyes, “probably for the best I didn’t see you rough him up, but the drug stuff? Loud and clear.”

“Lovely,” Lucifer breathed, brushing down his suit and giving a prim little tug on his jacket. His mouth pinched in distaste when he noticed a rip by one of the lapels and there had clearly been a scuffle—but there was no blood on him, no cuts… not even a scratch.

Chloe’s mind span from it all.

The door suddenly burst open as two cops came in and picked Jed up by the arms, dragging him away as he whimpered and cried. As she sluggishly sat up and even through her shock, Chloe rejoiced at the sight.

“We’re even now, okay?” the man on the other side of the glass said sharply, “you scratched my back, now I’ve scratched yours. He’ll be put away for a long time.”

“Yes, your debt is fully paid,” Lucifer said, “thank you, Daniel.”

 _Daniel_ nodded curtly and disappeared, lifting his finger off the button and turning the mirror back into a wall.

Chloe swallowed and turned back to Lucifer—but he was gone too.  
  


* * *

  
Chloe threw herself into research, trying to make sense of what she saw as she began to rebuild her life.

She lasted two days before she found herself in Lucifer’s elevator, riding it to the penthouse at the top.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. In-fact, as he stood by the bar, a half-burned cigarette in a crystal ashtray floating clouds of smoke into the air, it looked like he’d been _waiting_ for her. As the elevator doors rasped open and chimed her arrival, he paused, his whiskey glass suspended half-way to his lips.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he confirmed, his deep tone somehow hinting at a deeper meaning.

Chloe stared at him as she doors closed behind her.

“What are you?” she cut to the chase.

His lips twitched into a wry smile.

“I think you know.”

She watched him take a sip of whiskey, shaking her head softly when he offered her one. She didn’t come here to drink; she came here for answers.

“At first, I thought a demon,” she said, her mind spinning with how utterly _ridiculous_ that was, “then some sort of monster, then I thought… some sort of Sith Lord like that Darth Maul dude from Star Wars?”

Lucifer frowned, looking more than a little outraged.

“But then I remembered your name and obviously all the mentions of Hell and I realised… you’re the Devil.”

He looked surprised by her bluntness, at the way she said it so easily. He slowly put his whiskey glass down on the bar and took a step towards her.

His dark eyes searched her face, looking for terror, for weakness, for a reaction like Jed’s. She imagined that _was_ what it normally provoked, but she stared right back, a hole where her fear had once been.

“You’re aren’t afraid?” he asked slowly, almost cautiously.

“I’ve been alone since my father died,” she started, “my mother treats me _like_ I’m dead. My boyfriend beat me black and blue and I’ve seen pretty much every shit thing in this shit world,” she paused to swallow and her voice was quiet when she finished, “no, I’m not afraid.”

His eyes narrowed, as though he was trying to work her out.

“I’m the _literal_ Devil, the King of Hell,” he reiterated, as though she couldn’t possibly be okay with that, as though she didn’t _understand_ , “I ruled over the souls of the damned for millennia.”

She merely shrugged.

“Hell can’t be any worse than here.”

He drew back a little, his mouth opening before it slammed shut again. For once, he was truly speechless.

She had finally found a way to shut him up, she thought gleefully.

“What Jed did to me…” she started, a little more serious now, “…there could be nothing worse than that. _He_ was my tormenter. So whatever _you_ are… it doesn’t scare me. You still saved me. I owe you.”

More than that, for some inexplicable reason, she _trusted_ this man.

“No, you don’t.”

“I _do_ ,” she insisted, “you did me a huge favour. Don’t you want to collect? Isn’t that your _thing_?”

He smiled, soft and genuine.

“Consider this one free,” he said, “Daniel owed me a favour. He’s quite the corrupt cop and I helped him cover up some of his more… _dubious_ activities. I killed two birds with one stone by having him help me.”

“But why?” she breathed, struggling to make sense of it, “why would you help me?”

“Because you’re special.”

She paused, unsure what to make of that.

“Are you…” she faltered, the words lodging in her throat, “are you coming onto me? Are you going to, like, expect… _that_ in return?”

She felt flustered, worried, and his lips twitched almost imperceptibly at her inability to say the words.

“Do I look like the sort of man who needs to manipulate someone into bed?” he raised a brow, his tone bordering on cocky, “I do quite well, thank you. You never have to worry about that with me. I will never lay a hand on you… unless you want me to, of course.”

His smirk turned flirtatious, his eyes sparkling, and Chloe couldn’t help but return it. She felt at ease with him, a begrudging sort of respect, but she had been burned one too many times before. She refused to give in to the attraction pooling warm in the pit of her stomach.

She was swearing off men altogether, she decided, and the literal devil most of all.

“Okay… thank you,” she said, “I’m not actually sure how I _would_ return it. I mean, what’s the going rate for saving someone’s life?”

“I take every currency,” he shrugged, “and speak every language—but that’s neither here nor there.”

She raised a brow of her own.

“So it’s always money you get in return?”

“Not always. Usually.”

“Well, that’s _boring_ ,” her nose scrunched as she glanced around the lavish penthouse, “by the looks of things, you already have more money than you could spend. You should tailor your favours to each person. That way you get a tailored payback too, depending on what you actually want or need at the time.”

He cocked his head to the side, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Interesting.”

An uneasy silence suddenly fell over them. She shifted from her left foot to her right before she forced a smile.

“Well, I only came here to say things were cool between us and to thank you, and I’ve done that so… I’ll go.”

“Where?” he asked, “I understand the police have raided Jed’s place.”

“Yeah, I’m staying in a hotel for now. I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head.

“Nonsense. I have more than enough properties, you can stay in one of those. Perhaps the beach house. It has quite the impressive hot tub, might be nostalgic for you.”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“I couldn’t,” she insisted, “you’ve done enough.”

“I’m about to do more,” he said, “your _tailored favour_ idea has just given me one.”

Chloe frowned, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not too proud to admit this world is still… confusing to me,” he started, “I could use some guidance. You’re smart and shrewd and clearly capable. You said yourself you don’t want to be an actress anymore, that you’re wasting your life. You could come work for me instead.”

Chloe’s lips parted in surprise.

“I can’t sing or dance,” she said, assuming he meant to work in the club downstairs.

“I have enough singers and dancers,” he replied, “I need a sex-retary.”

“ _Secretary_ ,” she corrected flatly.

“That’s what I said.”

She rolled her eyes again at his smirk, clearly intended to charm.

“I don’t like that term,” she sniffed, “what about PA?”

He seemed to consider it.

“PA it is,” he said eventually, extending a hand, “welcome on board, Miss Decker.”

She took it, encasing her hand in his, and _there it was._

The end of life as she knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the second part! 
> 
> We're back to the present next chapter...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present now and the aftermath of Delilah's shooting...

They were silent as they rode the elevator, Lucifer’s anger and grief rolling off him in hot waves.

Chloe felt it in the crackle of electricity in the air—the rumble of sheer, unparalleled power. He normally kept it on a tight leash, wrapped up in impeccable three piece suits and a smooth smile that never reached his eyes; it was easy to forget how strong he was. Now, after watching someone he cared about die in his arms, he seemed unable to contain it.

The ping of the elevator was shrill and loud as it chimed their arrival. The doors rasped open and he walked out first, his legs moving in long strides that predictably took him straight to the bar.

He grabbed a crystal tumbler of undoubtedly expensive whiskey. Chloe watched as he filled a glass with the amber liquid and then wordlessly poured her a glass of her favourite rosé. She wasn’t particularly in the mood, was careful about how much she drank at the best of times, but she took it anyway.

It made her ache a little, how he knew her alcohol of choice, the same way she knew what colour pocket square went with which suit. Their lives had become so inextricably entwined, sometimes it was difficult to see where he ended and she began.

She knew how much he was hurting because she was hurting too—she could feel it.

“Lucifer,” she murmured, quietly watching the movement of his throat as he took a sip of whiskey and hissed at the burn, “it’s not your fault.”

She said it because asking if he was okay instead seemed a rather pointless question. The suit she had watched him painstakingly choose earlier was now riddled with bullet holes, the expensive fabric in shreds. The sheer number of rips and tears, the number of bullets he would have taken were he human—that _Delilah_ had taken—made her feel sick. She could see blood that wasn’t his speckling his beard, pools of it drying into his white shirt.

“Of course it is,” he said suddenly, turning his attention to her. His eyes were cold, shuttered and guarded, and that made her feel a little sick too.

She took a step towards him.

“No,” she said emphatically, “you _know_ who did this.”

“Yes, Jimmy Barnes,” the name was practically a growl, “who _I_ introduced her to.”

“You couldn’t have predicted that he would hurt her, that he would _kill_ her,” she insisted, “you couldn’t have known.”

“What I _know_ ,” he repeated, a cutting edge to his voice, "is that I am _poison_ for anyone who dares to care about me.”

She shook her head, putting her untouched glass of wine down and taking another step towards him. To her dismay, he flinched away from her, holding his hand up in warning.

“That’s not true,” she tried.

He laughed, but it was a cold and ugly sound.

“Isn’t it? I mean, look at _you_ ,” his dark eyes did a sweep of her, “you keep coming back like a kicked dog no matter how badly I treat you.”

She stared back at him with an ache in her chest because _yes_ , he got unreasonably annoyed if she forgot the whiskey in his coffee, and he called her at 2am to make her explain the plot of _Game of Thrones_ , and he never gave her enough warning when he needed a suit tailored, but he didn’t treat her badly at all.

He was ridiculously transparent and she knew what he was trying to do but _still_ —it hurt.

She watched as he sat down on the couch, running a tired hand over his face.

“You’re upset,” she said, “and angry. I get it. I am too. But we _will_ bring Jimmy to justice. It’s what you do, right?”

He blinked at her but his nod was dull and dispassionate, as though his heart wasn’t in it.

She sighed and sat down next to him, hearing the plush squeak of Italian leather as she did so.

Silence stretched out between them, ugly and tense. She could try to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure she knew how, and when all was said and done, she wasn’t his girlfriend.

Maybe he didn’t _want_ comfort from her.

“Do you want me to call Eve?” she asked quietly, the question hanging in the air somewhat awkwardly.

A muscle in his jaw jumped and he shook his head.

“No,” he said simply, “just—stay.”

It wasn’t an order, but it wasn’t quite a request. It was as though he knew she could say no, but he hoped she wouldn’t.

And she wouldn’t.

She moved a little closer into his side, her right arm snaking its way around him. Her other palm slid up to his shoulder, her cheek resting on the back of her hand.

And in the moment, as the fingers of his own hand came up to gently grip her wrist, he wasn’t a powerful businessman or her boss or even the Devil.

He was her friend.  
  


* * *

  
“Your boyfriend’s here,” Maze smirked, lifting a split brow to the top of the staircase. She was lounging in her favourite booth, her heeled boots digging into the plush red leather.

Chloe looked up from where she had been writing in her diary, having noticed that Dr Linda Martin’s payment was still outstanding. She made a mental note to discuss it with Lucifer when she saw Detective Daniel Espinoza making his way towards them.

She narrowed her eyes at Maze’s shit-eating grin.

She knew Dan had taken a liking to her since they met, dropping by to not-so-subtly ask her out after Jed was jailed. She hadn’t been ready then and she wasn’t particularly interested now, not that he had ever asked again. Part of her wondered why, a curious little niggle at the back of her mind. She forced a smile as he reached her, his fingers tapping a pattern on the table she was sitting at.

“Hey Dan,” she said politely.

“Hey Chloe—the boss around?”

She shook her head, putting her pen down.

“He’s out with Eve,” she said, not able to elaborate on the details even if she wanted to, because she had learned a long time ago not to ask, “can I help?”

He hooked a chair with his foot and dragged it towards him, sitting down opposite her.

“I’m on Delilah’s case,” he said, “I just need to speak to him to wrap up some loose ends. Mainly how she took a dozen bullets, yet he’s out on the town with his girlfriend the next day, not a scratch on him.”

Chloe shrugged, keeping her expression even and unaffected.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re not the one who has to get his suit mended.”

He smiled, a little guarded.

“Quite the enigma your boss, isn’t he?”

“You tell me. You’ve known him longer.”

Lucifer had been out of sight that day, when Dan had watched him threaten Jed from behind the two-way mirror. He had missed his Devil face, but even if he hadn’t, Dan wasn’t the type of man to investigate or ask questions. It seemed a ridiculous notion, given that he was a Detective, having earned the label after nailing Jed, but he always looked for the easiest option. He cut corners, still a little corrupt, and he preferred a quick solution, rather than the right one. With every case he took on, he looked for a way to close it quickly.

“Look, I did my research on Delilah. I get that she was your friend, but she was in over her head with drug dealers. One of them shot her, we found him dead in his crashed car after. It’s sad, it’s shit, but it’s not rocket science. Delilah can’t pay, she gets riddled with bullets and a nice little act of God takes him out.”

Chloe knew all about the drug dealer who pulled the trigger; Lucifer had managed to speak to him, to learn that Jimmy Barnes had hired him, before he crossed over.

And as far as “acts of God” were concerned… she knew his Father worked in ways far more mysterious than that.

“Quite a neatly wrapped little present for the LAPD, don’t you think?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you want me to say, Chloe? It’s an open and shut case.”

“I know you think that. I know this isn’t a priority for you—but it’s a priority for us. Delilah was one of us. She was _ours_. We’re going to get justice for her, whether you help us or not. I hope that you will.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before he sighed.

“What do you want me to do?”

She leaned forward, hoping he would listen to her.

“We’re going to visit Jimmy Barnes. He was Delilah’s ex and also an abusive piece of shit. Lucifer managed to speak to that drug dealer you want to pin it on before he died. He said Jimmy hired him.”

Dan arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You want me to allow you to intimidate a suspect?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Just give me a wire and sit in a van out back. Once we have a confession, you can rush right in and take the credit. Imagine all those pats on the back when you return to the precinct. Come on, Dan. It’ll be just like old times.”

He blinked at her before he laughed, incredulous and if she didn’t know any better, a little awed.

“Alright Chloe,” he relented eventually, “we’ll try it your way.”

She smiled triumphantly, watching as he slowly stood up. Silence fell over them for a moment before he shook his head and smiled, a little bemused.

“You know, I hope this isn’t overstepping the mark and I know you shot me down all those years ago, but I always wanted to ask you out again. I think we would’ve made a real good team. It’s a damn shame you’re spoken for.”

The last part of his speech caught her attention, her brows furrowing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Maze sit forward in the booth too, her expression interested.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked Lucifer about you a few months back—he said you were seeing someone.”

Chloe’s lips parted in surprise, her mouth opening before it slammed shut again.

“Right,” she said, attempting a smooth recovery, to feign nonchalance even as her brain fought to catch up. She forced a smile as they made arrangements for the plan with Jimmy and then said their goodbyes.

Once he was gone, Chloe swivelled in her chair and blinked at Maze.

“Why would Lucifer say that?”

Maze hummed, her lips pulling into a smirk.

“You’re a smart girl, Chloe,” she said, her eyes glittering with the wisdom of someone who had known him for millennia, “you’ll figure it out.”  
  


* * *

  
It had taken some persuading—Lucifer sullenly grumbling about _Detective Douche’s_ uselessness and his corrupt little organisation for hours—but eventually, they had Jimmy Barnes backed into a corner.

Chloe stayed back as Lucifer pinned him to the glass of his recording studio, his eyes blazing red.

“I _made_ her!” Jimmy was shouting through his fear, his words choked around the tight grip Lucifer had on his throat, “she owed me—and she left me at the altar. She _humiliated_ me.”

“So you ended her life?” Lucifer sneered.

Chloe angled her body so that the wire she was wearing would pick up his confession.

“Yes!” Jimmy cried, his eyes popping open wide and terrified as Lucifer’s face morphed into something monstrous, “ _yes_ , okay, I did it! I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

Lucifer did, pushing him away with a disgusted shove. He took a step back, tugging on his suit jacket and adjusting his cuffs. He went to turn to her when Jimmy suddenly reached into his pocket and Chloe caught the flash of silver steel.

“Lucifer—” she breathed, her next words stolen by the _bang_ of a gun.

Lucifer flinched as he was shot, the bullet colliding with his side. He reacted with a little grunt, his top lip curling into a snarl as he turned back to Jimmy. A low growl rumbled from the back of his throat, something dangerous and animalistic, hellfire flashing through his eyes. Jimmy’s bottom lip trembled as he started to cry and plead again.

Dan and his team chose this moment to burst through the door, a flurry of shouting and black uniforms as they picked Jimmy up and dragged him away. The silence was deafening once they were gone, the pain of before bristling between them.

Chloe heard the crunch of broken glass under her feet as she took a step towards him.

The similarities with what had occurred with Jed all those years ago gave her a sickening case of _de ja vu_.

It was exactly the same, and yet it _wasn’t_ —because a pool of red was suddenly spreading across Lucifer's side where he had been shot.

Chloe’s eyes widened as his own dropped down to his body.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update within a day?! Who am I? I probably wouldn't get used to it - but this story seems to be flowing from me quite easily :) It's turned a bit darker and angstier than I intended, and more of a slow burn, but I hope that's okay. I am aiming for it to be a little lighter in the chapters to come haha. I know slow burn can be kind of annoying so I hope the quick updates make up for it! 
> 
> More on Eve and Linda, and getting back to the good old PA duties, next...


	6. Chapter 6

“Jesus Christ!”

Chloe whipped around, screwing her eyes shut to try and burn the image of Lucifer’s bare ass from her memory. Of course, she had seen it before—he liked being naked almost as much as he liked his 10,000 dollar suits—but not when the world’s first woman was equally naked in the bed next to him. She would _not_ take part in one of his famous orgies, no matter how many times he asked.

“Not quite,” he replied cheerfully.

She heard the rustle of sheets behind her.

“Are you decent?”

“ _Well_ —”

She took a deep, patient breath.

“—are you dressed?” she corrected before he could say whatever smart-ass thing he was going to say.

“Yes, Robin, your delicate sensibilities are safe. You can turn around.”

She did and saw him wearing a ridiculously over the top, red silk robe with matching trousers. Eve had thrown on one of his shirts too, a bright smile on her face, not the slightest bit embarrassed.

Chloe cursed herself for not calling in advance. She knew better than to just walk into his penthouse, where she could—and _had—_ find literally anything. The unfortunate encounter with his “pet” shark sprang to mind. She tried not to dwell on it and she _definitely_ tried not to dwell on the strange, unsettling sensation in the pit of her stomach when she saw him and Eve together. It was an uncomfortable, uneasy thing—a sort of tightness that she didn’t understand. It started there and travelled up until it strangled her throat.

Maybe if she didn’t give it a name, she thought, it wouldn’t exist. She pushed it down and tried to focus on why she was here.

“Can I speak to you please?”

He blinked, his expression halfway between intrigued and amused, before he glanced to Eve. She listened like the good little lapdog she was—Chloe silently reprimanded herself for being so _bitter_ —and moved into the living room.

Once they were alone, Chloe took a step forward. She silently moved his dressing gown to the side, the ripple of expensive silk sliding across her palm.

She felt the burn of his curious eyes on her as she surveyed smooth, leanly muscled skin.

She didn’t miss the slight contraction of his abs as her fingers drifted idly over his side, the way he shuddered a little under her touch. She wondered what that meant—and then tried not to.

“You’re healed.”

He shrugged, "good as new.”

She drew her hand back.

“As new as a 14 billion year old can be?”

“13.8 billion, thank you very much.”

She smiled softly before her expression turned serious.

“We should talk about what happened.”

Almost immediately, his expression became shuttered and guarded.

“What is there to talk about? I bled. I healed. It’s done.”

She blinked at him, her lips parted in surprise.

“That’s… _it?_ ” she asked, “has it ever happened before?”

“Once or twice.”

Her brows knitted together. She wasn’t expecting _that._

“When?” she asked, “How? _Why?”_

“All very good questions,” he said dryly.

“Then why are you avoiding them?”

She watched a muscle in his cheek twitch as he clenched the strong line of his jaw. She _knew_ him. He was avoiding the topic for a reason, avoiding the question for a reason—because he didn’t lie, but he didn’t want to tell her the truth either.

Only he _had_ lied—to Dan.

“Alright, if you won’t answer that, answer this,” she started, “why did you tell Dan I was seeing someone?”

He stiffened, a flicker of surprise passing over his features before he got himself in check. His jaw clenched again, his fingers twitching at his sides. She knew he was probably about to reach for his cuffs, to adjust them the way he always did, but the habit was futile in the face of a silk dressing gown.

“I didn’t.”

Chloe huffed in exasperation.

“You _did._ He told me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

She wanted to scream.

“What did you say then?”

“That you were _unavailable_ ,” his tone was short, clipped, “which you are.”

She raised a brow, indignant anger flaring inside her.

“Excuse me?”

“The work we do isn’t exactly above board,” he said, “and Daniel isn’t exactly a trustworthy person. Now he’s cashed in his favour, I wouldn’t be surprised if he threw us to the wolves. I don’t want him sniffing around y— _us_. It’s too dangerous.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at his little slip-up. It sounded like an excuse.

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t date,” she insisted stubbornly, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

He tipped his chin, as though he were conceding.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuine, “I just didn’t want to lose you. You’re far too important…”

He must have noticed her expression, the way her lips parted in surprise as her chest tightened and her throat ran dry, because he smoothly added—

“…as an assistant, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated, a little numb, “well, speaking as your assistant, I also came here to discuss Dr Martin’s payment.”

“What about it?”

Chloe clenched her jaw, wondering why he was being especially _awkward_ today.

“She hasn’t made it.”

He waved a dismissive hand, his expression casual.

“Oh, she has,” he declared, “I’ve been visiting her for therapy sessions. I know, I know— _so LA_.”

Of all the things she was expecting—the sordid and unusual and ingenious repayments she had known him to come up with— _that_ was pretty much at the bottom.

“ _What?”_

He shrugged, like this wasn’t mind-boggling, mind-bending information.

“Seems a fair deal, if you ask me.”

“I guess it’s slightly more productive than just having sex for money,” she pondered out-loud before she hummed, “if that had a name, what would they call it?”

Lucifer threw her a flat look.

“We’re actually not doing the nasty anymore,” he sniffed, “just the boring old therapy.”

The revelation made Chloe inexplicably pleased and she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Is that the truth?”

“ _Always_ the truth,” he said gently, “point of pride for me, Robin.”

“What do you talk about?”

He smirked.

“Even the Devil should be allowed his secrets, darling.”

She gave a reluctant nod and let it go—but she still didn’t _understand._

In-fact, there was so much she didn’t understand. Like why he bled now and why he’d never told her it had happened before and why it didn’t happen with Delilah and if he talked about it in those therapy sessions. She didn’t understand the reason behind it and why he clearly wasn’t telling her the whole truth—about that _and_ about why he didn’t want her to date Dan. 

Most of all, she didn’t understand this tightness in her chest, this strange and new feeling she had when he looked at her.

She didn’t understand why she was so _relieved_ he wasn’t sleeping with Linda Martin anymore—and why every time Eve was around, she wished she wasn’t.  
  


* * *

“What are you doing here?”

Chloe winced at her own bluntness, feeling guilty even as Eve’s blinding smile didn’t falter.

“I was _bored_ ,” Eve said on a laugh, swaying on her feet slightly, before she nosily peered inside, “can I come in?”

Chloe blinked, stepping back and opening the door wider—because she couldn’t think of a good excuse to say no. Eve pushed past her.

Light on her feet, she practically _glowed._

Chloe hated her.

Maybe hate was too strong a word—she didn’t particularly _know_ her—but she wasn’t interested in _getting_ to know her either. In her opinion, Eve was trouble with a capital ‘T’. She wasn’t the type of woman who dragged other women down, and she wasn’t so naïve as to blame her for Lucifer’s bad behaviour, because he was trouble too.

That was the whole point.

They were _bad_ for each other.

To Eve, Lucifer was that snake from the Garden, tempting her into sin. He was debauched and selfish and all he cared about was unbridled, uninhibited pleasure.

To Chloe, he was more than that.

He was the man who cared about _her._ He cared about Maze, his oldest friend in the world, even if he was pretty terrible at showing it sometimes. He cared about the favours he granted and the work they did and _yes_ , life was still was one big party, but he cared about the serious parts too.

Eve knew what his hands felt like and what his tongue felt like and she knew the noises he made during sex but… did she know how much whiskey he liked in his coffee, and his favourite time of day, and how he didn’t like people touching his wings? Did she know how much money he spent sending that sick kid to Disney a couple of years back, even though he _despised_ kids, and how intensely he still felt the pain of the fall, and how his voice went all hollow when he talked about little Azrael, who he thought would visit him but never did?

The little things that made him _him…_ Eve didn’t know. Not anymore.

They settled in the kitchen, Chloe pouring them two cups of coffee.

“This place is awesome,” Eve said enthusiastically, swinging around in her chair, “super nice of Lucifer to give it to you.”

Chloe glanced around the swanky house, the glass walls that revealed the infinity pool outside. She caught a glimpse of the hot tub and her mind sparked with a memory.

 _"Perhaps the beach house,"_ he'd said, _"i_ _t has quite the impressive hot tub, might be nostalgic for you."_

“I’m going to get my own place,” she insisted a little weakly, lamely, “I just need to save some more money first.”

“Why?” Eve blinked, her doe-eyes wide, “you don’t need to. Lucifer will take care of you.”

Chloe bristled, feeling a little annoyed at her lack of social skills and boundaries.

“You’ve landed in the 21st century, Eve,” she said dryly, “women want to stand on their own feet. I don’t want to be dependent on him forever.”

“So you’re going to buy a house, a fraction of the size, with the wages he pays you…” she said slowly, “because that’s different from living in a house he’s given you…”

Chloe lifted her coffee cup to her lips and hid her tight smile behind it.

“How can I help you, Eve?”

Eve beamed, totally oblivious to Chloe’s distress.

“Lucifer’s on the other side of town, meeting with a client,” she informed her as though Chloe didn’t _literally_ book his schedule every day, “I have nothing to do. I figured you have nothing to do too… so here I am.”

Chloe stiffened again at the implication that her life revolved around Lucifer, that she was just sitting around waiting for him to call on her, and she felt her defences fly up.

“I have a life,” she sniffed, “I’m not just Lucifer’s lapdog.”

The other woman must have finally noticed she’d offended her because her expression turned apologetic.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” she pouted, leaning her chin in her hand, “I’m sorry. I’ve never really had a friend before. There was Adam, but I was literally made for him, and when he wasn’t being super jealous, he was ignoring me completely. Once we got ESPN up there? Forget about it. Then there’s Lucifer and he’s just so perfect, you know? I want to be perfect for him.”

Chloe tried to hide her eye-roll because she thought Lucifer Morningstar was many things, but _perfect_ was not one of them.

“And that involves turning up on my doorstep unannounced?”

“Of course,” she blinked like it was obvious, “if I’m honest, I’ve always been a little jealous of you.”

Chloe raised a brow, her eyes dragging over her thick, brunette curls and huge, brown doe eyes and perfect body.

“Jealous of _me?_ ”

“I didn’t realise it before but Chloe, you’re _so_ important to him,” she said, “he listens to you and he respects you—more than _anyone_. If I want our relationship to work, I need to understand that. I need for us to be friends.”

Chloe sighed, remembering how Delilah had said the same. She wondered what it said about her, about them, that everyone seemed to have this opinion. She wondered if she _did_ have a life outside of him, outside of this job and this home, and this world she had built with him inextricably entwined.

She smiled—even though it felt like the last thing she wanted to do.  
  


* * *

  
Chloe lifted her hand to knock on the door, only to drop it again in painful indecision.

She bit her thumb nail, rapidly losing confidence with every passing minute. She knew she shouldn’t be here—it _really_ wasn’t her business—but her curiosity was eating away at her. She took a deep breath and knocked three times.

Her foot tapped impatiently on the carpeted floor before the door opened, revealing a Dr Martin who didn’t look at all surprised to see her.

“Hi,” Chloe breathed, her nerve endings firing anxiously again, “are you busy?”

Linda gave a friendly smile as she shook her head and opened the door wider.

“I’m in-between clients,” she said, “I’ve got time.”

She nodded and walked into the room. It was exactly how she had imagined it, decorated in warm, cosy furniture, and she sat down on the therapist’s couch. Linda sat in the chair opposite her and waited for her to speak.

Chloe shifted in her seat, rubbing the tops of her thighs anxiously. Her eyes flickered down to note the tape recorder on the coffee table between them.

“Oh don’t worry,” Linda waved a dismissive hand, “you’re not a client and this isn’t a session. It’s not on. We can just have an informal chat, if you like?”

Chloe nodded, relieved.

“Lucifer said he’s been coming to you for therapy... that it was his payment?”

Linda looked a little embarrassed, a slight flush rising into her cheeks.

“I put an end to our… physical relationship once that started,” she said, “it was highly unprofessional. Truthfully, I don’t know what came over me.”

Chloe scoffed, not wanting her to think she judged her, because she _didn’t._

“Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed, “everyone reacts that way to him.”

Linda cocked her head to the side.

“But you don’t.”

Chloe met her eyes, waiting for her to elaborate.

“That day at Lux when we first met, you looked almost… frustrated by him,” she said, amused, “you didn’t seem to feel that… pull that I did. He didn’t affect you in the same way.”

“No, I guess not,” she conceded, “I do seem immune to that. He can’t ask me what I desire either. Does he think that’s weird? Do you guys talk about that?”

“Chloe, I’m sure you know I can’t divulge what Lucifer and I discuss in our meetings. It’s confidential.”

“Worth a try,” she grumbled, desperate to know if they talked about why he only bled sometimes, too.

Linda smiled patiently.

“Why are you here?” she asked then, “there must be a reason.”

“Mainly to snoop,” she admitted, “I just couldn’t believe it when he said he was having therapy. Trust me Doctor, I don’t think you’ve seen a case like this. I honestly don’t know where you’ll even start.”

 _That_ was an understatement.

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Linda smiled, friendly but so very mistaken, “and I think you’ve started for me. You two seem very close.”

“I thought you couldn’t talk about his sessions.”

“Not the specifics—but you certainly come up.”

Chloe sighed, sitting back in her seat slightly.

“I don’t really have any friends,” she said suddenly, the confession spewing from her lips like word-vomit, “I mean, there’s Maze who works at the club but she’s not exactly _normal,_ and a few acquaintances from my youth but… my job is all I have. Sometimes I go days without talking to anyone but Lucifer. That’s weird, right?”

Linda hummed, cautious and unreadable.

“Do _you_ think it’s weird?”

Chloe fought the urge to roll her eyes. She’d be getting her to speak in _“I”_ statements next.

“I don’t think it’s healthy,” she admitted and then she realised _that_ was why she was here. She wanted to talk to someone. She wanted a friend. She wanted to breathe outside of this relationship that was so intense, it was suffocating her.

And she didn’t want to be like Eve, building her life around a man and having nothing else—a man who wasn’t even _hers._

“Lucifer told me how you met, I can say that much at least,” Linda said gently, “it sounds like you went through a pretty rough time—and he was there for you.”

“He saved me,” Chloe said because he _did,_ “in all the ways a person can be saved.”

“It's natural that you would feel like you owe him.”

“I don't feel that way,” she shook her head because Lucifer had _never_ made her feel indebted to him, “it’s… not that. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” Linda challenged, even though her eyes sparkled as though she knew it was, “if you feel like you don’t owe him anything and there’s nothing keeping you here working for him… just don’t. Walk away.”

Chloe’s mind suddenly sparked with a depressingly stark, inevitable revelation. 

“I don’t want to,” she whispered with a shrug of defeat.


	7. Chapter 7

Chloe cursed as her doorbell and her phone rang out simultaneously. She tripped over a strappy black heel in her haste to answer them both. 

“Mr Morningstar’s office,” she was a little breathless as she winced past the stab of pain shooting through her foot, “Chloe speaking.”

“Hi Chloe, it’s Rebecca—Matt Owens’ personal assistant.”

“Oh hi!” Chloe greeted the other woman, hobbling over to grab the Tom Ford suit hanging on her bedroom door. It was covered in a protective garment bag and she smoothed a palm over it, wedging her phone with her ear as she flung it over her shoulder, “how are you? Rushed off your feet, I bet!”

Clearly too impatient to wait more than one minute, Lucifer rang the doorbell again.

“That’s an understatement,” Rebecca laughed, “I’m just going over numbers last minute. You and Lucifer are still coming, right?”

As she went to leave her bedroom, Chloe caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She was still in an old t-shirt and lounge pants, but she had curled her hair, piling it on top of her head for now, and her features were accentuated in soft makeup. It certainly wasn’t a look she normally reserved for hanging around her house and she confirmed—

“Yep, we’re coming. I just need to get dressed and seeing as I’m currently holding Lucifer’s tux, so does he.”

Rebecca laughed on the other side of the phone.

“I swear, these men would be lost without us.”

Lucifer chose this moment to start ringing the bell incessantly, leaving no gap before he pressed it again and again.

“Tell me about it,” Chloe rolled her eyes as she bounded down the stairs, “mine has about a hundred black tux's but _obviously_ only this particular Tom Ford is good enough for Matt’s premiere, and _obviously_ he chooses last night to tell me it needs to be dry cleaned.”

“Men.”

“Yup. I’ve got to go. Lucifer’s wearing my doorbell out,” Chloe huffed, “I’ll see you tonight, Rebecca.”

They said their goodbyes and then Chloe answered the door, revealing one very impatient devil.

His dark eyes swept over her.

“Hmm, a little casual,” he remarked at her faded _Beatles_ t-shirt, “but if anyone can make it work, you can, darling.”

He pushed past her, leaving her to grit her teeth a little as she pushed the door shut again.

“I’m not dressed yet,” she said, lifting the tux off her shoulder and holding it out in-front of him, “I just had to go pick this up from a dry cleaners on the other side of town.”

Their fingers brushed as he took it from her.

“You should’ve gone to one closer,” he said, totally oblivious to the fact that a dry cleaners normally needed more than 12 hour notice. Rebecca was right; he _would_ be lost without her. She wondered if he thought his suits just magically appeared in his closet, cleaned and pressed, after he wore them, or if his piano tuned itself, or Lux balanced its own books.

For a man who was all-powerful and literally older than time, he was positively _useless_.

“Put it on,” she ordered, absently noting the ridiculousness of slipping out of one designer suit and into another, but Lucifer was nothing if not obsessed with his style, and he would be outraged she couldn’t tell the difference, “I’ll get dressed upstairs.”

He began to unzip the garment bag as she turned away.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

She turned back, noticing the playful arch to his brow.

She threw him an unimpressed look, her own brows rising to her hairline.

“We both know you’re an expert in getting women _out_ of the clothes, not in them.”

His mouth twitched, seemingly delighted by their push and pull.

“Still,” he crooned, “I’m flexible.”

She rolled her eyes and bounded upstairs, his husky chuckle snapping at her heels all the way.  
  


* * *

  
Chloe stood at the top of the stairs, one hand on the bannister and her other clutching her purse.

Her dress was a pale blue to match her eyes, clinching in at her waist and floating to the floor. She had worried it was too much, and then not enough, and then she decided _fuck it,_ she was done second-guessing herself. She was a strong, confident woman, and she looked _good._

She had released her hair from its clip, letting it fall in loose, honey waves down her shoulders. As she moved down the stairs, she could see the lights glittering off the simple diamond bracelet she wore on her wrist, an eighteenth birthday present from her dad. It was one of her most cherished possessions, one she reserved for special occasions, and she supposed the Hollywood premiere of a blockbuster film qualified.

She wasn’t sure why Matt Owens had invited her. Of course, she had arranged his meetings with Lucifer, as she arranged _everyone’s_ meetings with Lucifer, but that was the extent of her involvement. She was occasionally there for their conversations—very _one sided_ conversations where Lucifer literally talked about himself for hours—but she wasn’t involved in the fairly common favour Matt had asked for.

Like Jed, and like many budding artists, he’d come to Lucifer for a kickstart to his career. _Unlike_ Jed, Matt had a winning combination of talent and grace, and the executives and producers he’d met had been all too happy to work with him. Chloe didn’t know anything about the end product. She hadn’t even seen a trailer.

As she reached about halfway down the stairs, she noticed Lucifer come into view. He stood at the bottom, looking handsome and strong and wearing the tux she’d had dry cleaned for him. She had to begrudgingly admit, no-one wore a suit quite like he did, and a strange heat pooled in the pit of her stomach.

She was shaken by it, confused, because he’d _always_ been attractive and they’d _always_ been around each other—so _why_ , as he stood there at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her, did it feel like she was seeing him for the first time?

She wondered when it had happened; when Even came back and she’d felt an emotion she refused to recognise as jealousy? When she realised he was vulnerable and that one day, she might lose him? When she comforted him after Delilah’s death? Before even then?

Everything was different, yet nothing had changed.

She reached the last step and promptly tripped on her six inch heel.

Her heart leapt to her throat as she saw the ground coming at her face—then something hard caught her by the waist.

Lucifer.

He would never let her fall.

He straightened her up, looked down at her shoes and let out a low whistle.

“Pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?” he murmured before stepping away.

Her body was buzzing as he let her hand go too, the light glimmering off the ring on his finger. The black of Eden’s stone matched his suit, elegant and perfectly cut, and she felt the burn of his eyes on her as she self-consciously ran a hand over her stomach.

“I look okay?”

“Positively ethereal,” he corrected in a line that no-one else could have pulled off, “and I should know.”

He _should_. He was literally an angel, even if he didn’t like to think of himself as one, even if he hated his wings and all that came with them. Not for the first and certainly not for the last time, Chloe marvelled at how _insane_ her life was.

As her eyes swept over him again, she noticed he was missing his bowtie, the collar of his white shirt open and the tie slipped between his fingers.

He must have followed her eyeline because he let out a low and—if she didn’t know any better— _embarrassed_ grunt.

“Can’t work the bloody thing,” he muttered.

She took it from him.

“How old are you again?”

He grumbled a noncommittal reply as she reached up and lifted either side of his collar.

Her knuckles brushed gently over his Adam’s apple as she fastened the top button of his shirt first. Then, she slipped the scrap of black fabric around his neck and began to tie it. He lifted his chin to aid her, quiet and slow, and she swore, the air _burned_ between them. It was thin, something unspoken thrumming under the surface, heady and ready to explode.

She swallowed and felt the movement of his stubbled throat under her fingers as he did the same. Her eyes slowly dragged up to watch a muscle in his jaw tick.

He was reacting to her, just as he had when her fingers had brushed over his side, checking for a bullet scar that would never form.

She kept her eyes on her task and tried to ignore how her hands were shaking. She hoped he wouldn’t notice and if he did, she hoped he wouldn’t bring attention to it. She couldn’t guarantee it. He was difficult to predict, uncontainable and wild, and right now, she felt the same.

Up this close, she could smell his expensive cologne, tracing the hollow of his throat. It was a woodsy, masculine scent that left her inexplicably dizzy. As she finished her task, pushing the longer end through the loop behind the bow, she felt the burn of his curious eyes on her. She adjusted the bow and tightened it slightly before she stepped back. 

She let her hand drift slowly down his chest, her palm settling over his heart. She felt it beat, a steady and calm rhythm so different to the butterfly stutter of her own.

“You look very handsome,” she whispered.

He smiled, lopsided and slow and devastating, and offered his arm.

“Shall we?”  
  


* * *

  
Chloe was practically burning up as they reached the penthouse.

“Drink?” Lucifer asked quietly, shedding his tux jacket and laying it on the piano as he headed straight to the bar. The dryness in her throat had nothing to do with being parched, but she nodded anyway.

“I need some air,” she mumbled, registering his short nod as she headed to the balcony. 

She held onto the guard rail, closing her eyes as the fresh night air washed over her. She placed the back of her hand to her cheek and felt her skin flaming hot. The more explicit scenes of the movie she had just watched seared behind her vision and her blush only intensified.

She heard Lucifer behind her as he stepped onto the balcony.

She turned and took the glass of wine from his hand. She took a sip, the crisp flavour bursting onto her tongue.

“So that film was about us."

She paused, her glass suspended at her lips. He could be so _blunt_ sometimes, so direct and honest and unapologetically himself. Of course he wouldn’t dance around it; she didn’t know why she expected anything else.

“Seems like it," she mumbled.

He looked casual where she looked uncomfortable, at ease while the muscles in her body coiled tight as springs. He came to stand next to her, shoulder to shoulder as they leaned over the balcony. He had removed the cufflinks she’d bought him for Christmas last year and rolled his shirt to his elbows, revealing strong, tanned forearms. Her eyes followed the lean muscle to the glass of scotch he toyed in his hand. In the half-darkness, framed by soft light, he looked like the angel he said he wasn’t.

They stood in silence, the bustle of downtown LA and the thrum of the club beneath them, before she had to break it.

“I mean, it was totally unrealistic,” she blurted out about the film, thinking of one very inventive sex scene in particular, “I don’t think I could even bend that way.”

Lucifer chuckled next to her—a low, husky sound.

“Oh, you could.”

She took his word for it, trusted him as an authority on what the human body could do. He _was_ the king of desire, after-all. She imagined he’d tried all the positions, and created a few new ones.

They grew quiet again and she wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking. Mainly why Matt had taken inspiration from them. The main characters in his film were clearly modelled off them. The film was 92 minutes revolving around the Devil, bored of hell, taking a vacation on Earth and falling in love with his long-suffering, human personal assistant.

Chloe supposed it was rather ridiculous when you thought about it. Seeing it play out on screen was… _bizarre_ , to say the least.

“Was that how you described me?” she asked quietly, thinking of the actress playing a character clearly inspired by her.

“Strong, kind, _infuriatingly_ stubborn?” Lucifer turned to her, “yes, it was pretty spot on.”

She wondered what else he had told Matt, what they had spoken about on those long nights where he had taken inspiration.

She wondered what Lucifer had said, and what Matt had seen, to turn their partnership into a love story. The characters he had created were so clearly meant to be together, a slow burn relationship built upon care and respect, and Chloe felt lost. It was strange, seeing an outsider’s point of view on them, and where that outsider had taken them.

She suddenly thought of one of the many, _many_ sex scenes again—the one where the characters finally gave in to the push and pull between them in an explosive climax.

She remembered how warm she had felt, with Lucifer sitting right next to her, as the bodies writhed on the huge screen in-front of them. She’d felt his heat, his pull, and she swallowed past the dryness in her throat as she suddenly imagined herself in place of the character. She imagined _him._ His hands, his touch, his lips on her throat and the taste of his mouth. She’d had to squeeze her thighs together, a mortifying heat building between them, and cross one leg over the other.

She shook her head to bring herself back to reality.

“It was a good film, but I don’t know what Matt was thinking,” she insisted, a heat that had nothing to do with the balmy Californian air shimmying over her skin, “I mean, you and me? it’s totally ridiculous.”

Lucifer hummed, turning so his side was against the balcony. He toyed his glass between his fingers, the ice cube clinking softly against the side.

“Is it?”

Chloe paused, surprised.

“We’re always together,” he elaborated, “I can’t remember the last time I went a day without speaking to you. Is it really surprising someone would get that impression?”

Chloe considered it, considered how they must seem to an outsider looking in.

“You’re my boss,” she said, “obviously we’re going to be around each other.”

His mouth twitched at the side.

“You know, before you came along, I could do all sorts of things. Now I can’t do _anything_ on my own,” he laughed, the sound muffled behind his glass as he took a sip of scotch, “I simply _have_ to have your opinion. I mean, I can’t tie a bloody tie without you.”

“What about your revolving bedroom door?” she fired back boldly, “you do that _—_ or _them—_ without me.”

In-fact, she was quite sure she was the only woman in his life he _hadn’t_ had sex with. In the early days, even Maze found herself in his bed when she missed Hell, greedy for the brimstone and ash that clung to his body, an itch only he could scratch.

Her reply seemed to please him, something playful dancing behind his dark eyes. A hum rolled from his chest as he pushed off the balcony and came to stand in-front of her. He put his glass down on the table next to them and leaned in, both hands on the balcony either side of her. He surrounded her, tall and imposing.

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat as she breathed him in, all heat and whiskey and smoke. Her eyes dropped like an anchor to his mouth and she watched his lips move as his words formed.

“The offer’s always on the table, darling.”

She wondered if it really was. He talked a good story and he was an outrageous flirt, but she wondered how he would react if she actually _did_ close the gap between them and kiss him. Somehow, she suspected it wouldn’t be that simple. He respected her and trusted her and what they had… it went beyond sex.

He wouldn’t want to ruin that any more than she would. Sex complicated things. It was why they had never made that leap before, back when they barely knew each other and attraction burned under the surface between them, or in all the years that followed. And there had been so many—so many nights of talking about the important things, and nights of talking about nothing at all. There had been special occasions and events and favours, big and small, and through it all, they kept that boundary.

They toed the line, a simmering pot under a tightly sealed lid.

She gave as good as she got, the ice to his fire, and pushed right back.

She leaned up, until they were so close that she could feel the hot brush of his breath on her lips. The air pulsed and thrummed like a living thing between them.

“You couldn’t handle it,” she whispered.

He smirked, his lips pulling over white teeth in a shark-like grin, purely predatory. Whatever clever reply he was going to make suddenly died on his tongue as the elevator in the penthouse rasped open.

He heard it before she did, his head turning. She moved her own to the side, craning her neck to see past his body.

A man she didn’t recognise was standing in the middle of the room, jittery and clearly distressed.

“Can I help you?” Lucifer asked, his tone lined with irritation.

“You’re Lucifer Morningstar,” the man said shakily; it wasn’t a question.

“For my sins,” Lucifer replied, half-annoyed, half-bemused.

“I’m Reese Getty,” the man said and then reached into his pocket to pull out a gun, “Linda Martin’s husband.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chloe cringed, feeling more than a little awkward, as Reese Getty took another step towards them.

“I _told_ you this would happen,” she hissed to Lucifer under her breath as they moved from the balcony into the penthouse.

How many times had she warned him his slutty past would catch up to him? Frankly, she was surprised it had taken _this_ long for one of his lovers’ exes to turn up on his doorstep. Lucifer rolled his eyes, his expression calm and uncaring, even as Reese’s gun came into focus.

A couple of weeks ago, she wouldn’t have worried either. He was the _devil,_ after-all, and she’d seen him deal with numerous threats. He’d always seemed invincible to her, powerful and indestructible, but she remembered a bullet had hurt him before—even if she didn’t understand why.

Even so, he still had to be more… _durable_ than she was and she angled her body behind him. 

“Reese, was it?” Lucifer purred and she _knew_ that tone, all smooth honey to cover the thorns underneath, “why don’t you put the gun down so we can talk—man to man?”

Reese clearly didn’t like this response because he waved said weapon, a wild look in his eyes.

“You’re not a man,” he seethed, having no idea the depth to his words as he added, “a _real_ man wouldn’t sleep with a married woman.”

Lucifer held his hands up in mock surrender.

“The good doctor told me she was divorced.”

 _Not that it would have mattered_ , Chloe thought dryly, knowing Lucifer had absolutely no qualms about sleeping with married women. She couldn’t count how many times she had gotten into his elevator in the morning, only to cross paths with a blissed-out, dishevelled woman wearing a ring, on her way out. She never bothered to ask their names because she knew she’d never see them again, but she’d often spared a thought for their husbands.

“Well, she’s _not_ ,” Reese insisted, his words coming out fast and his throat choked with emotion, “we’re just separated; she’s still my wife. We belong together. She doesn’t know what she wants, that’s all.”

He sounded frantic, totally in denial, and it was difficult not to feel sorry for him.

“Well, she certainly wanted me to—”

Lucifer’s taunt melted into a grunt as Chloe pinched him.

Reese’s distress seemed to mount as he continued waving the gun with one hand and raking his fingers through his messy hair with the other.

“I’ve been watching you,” he insisted frantically, pointing it, “I watched you come out of _our_ house. I heard what you said— _sorry to shag and run, darling_ —is that how you speak to all women? Is that how you speak to _her?_ ”

He turned his attention to Chloe, his jaw clenching tight.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, all traces of teasing and insincerity wiped away.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

His voice was low, dangerous—a man on the edge of being pushed too far.

Reese must have sensed a weakness because his eyes lit up, a cruel smile curving his lips.

“Did you know he was cheating on you?” he asked heatedly, “did you know what a scumbag he is?”

She knew what a _man-whore_ he was—that wasn’t up for debate—but she didn’t think either men would appreciate the sarcasm.

She also didn’t particularly want to aggravate a lunatic pointing a gun at her, so she told the truth.

“I’m just his assistant,” she said emphatically, “we are _not_ together… like _at_ all… in _any_ way.”

“That’ll do, Robin,” Lucifer muttered, sounding a little put out, “thank you.”

Reese’s eyes dragged over them, taking in their fancy eveningwear. Surrounded by twinkling lights on the balcony, Lucifer in a tux and her in a beautiful dress, she supposed they _had_ looked like a couple to him. What with Matt and his film and now _this—_ the misunderstanding over them being together was getting ridiculous. The implication behind it was getting harder to ignore, harder to push down.

She also didn’t miss how Lucifer was still angling his body towards her, shielding her, his arm outstretched like a barrier. 

Reese’s expression turned cold, blank, and he gave a little shrug.

“You’re _just_ work colleagues…” he repeated dully, “so you won’t care if I do this?”

He fired the gun, making Chloe jump as the bullet whistled past her ear and collided with the centuries’ old Assyrian stone behind her. Some of it crumbled like ash to the floor, leaving a smoking hole behind.

Lucifer’s top lip curled into a snarl, his patience like a rubber band pulled too tight before it snapped. He took a step towards the other man, every muscle under that expensive suit pulled rigid and stiff.

“Don’t push me,” he warned, “she has _nothing_ to do with this.”

“Judging by your reaction, she has _everything_ to do with it,” Reese smirked coldly and Chloe’s sympathy for him ran cold too, “you took the most important thing in the world to me. Now I’m going to take someone you care about.”

“I didn’t _take_ anything,” Lucifer growled in irritation, specks of red in his eyes starting to flicker as his temper flared, “and I’m not seeing her anymore. Do you understand? It’s _over_.”

Reese’s lips curled into a malicious smile as he raised the gun.

“Not even close.”

Everything happened quickly then.

Before she could blink, Chloe heard the bang of five separate bullets. The first one rang out—followed by a stagnant, shocked pause—before four more followed in rapid succession. But she couldn’t feel them, couldn’t see them, because as quickly as they left the gun, a flurry of white blurred her vision.

Her mind fought to catch up, to process it, as she found herself hunched over in a protective position, her back to Reese. Just as the third bullet hit and she heard a grunt of pain that wasn’t her own, Chloe realised what was happening. She realised the cause of the other sound she’d heard just before the first bullet had left the gun—like the crack of a whip, something powerful displacing the air and piercing the atmosphere.

Lucifer was shielding her with his wings.

Her heart was in her throat as she felt his arms around her, a wall of bright, white feathers covering her from every angle. It was a protective cocoon and she had to screw her eyes shut again. She could count on one hand the number of times she had even seen his wings and never up close. Glancing at their divinity was like looking at the sun—beautiful, but not to be stared at for too long. She felt the movement of Lucifer’s chest behind her as he inhaled sharply with every bullet he took for her.

Eventually, as the last bullet left the gun, Chloe slowly opened her eyes and heard Reese’s shocked whisper.

“ _What are you_?”

He didn’t wait for a response.

As soon as Lucifer straightened, blood-speckled wings extended either side of his body and a murderous expression on his face, Reese bolted. He staggered backwards into the elevator and frantically pressed the button until the doors closed.

Silence fell over the penthouse.

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Chloe asked eventually, an aftershock tracing down her spine.

“No.”

“ _Why?”_ she breathed, never knowing him to shy away from meting out a punishment.

He rolled both shoulders back and nothing happened. He tried again and winced as the bloodied wings fluttered limply in the air.

“I can’t put them back in.”  
  


* * *

_  
“Oh, bloody hell.”_

Lucifer hissed in frustration as he attempted to pull a bullet from his wing, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. He gave up with a huff, making quite a ridiculous sight as he moved over to the bar and poured himself a drink instead. Chloe watched, wide eyed and unblinking, as the lights behind him glinted off the white wings.

“I don’t think whiskey will help.”

He huffed again, his fingers clenched tight around the glass, and shook his head.

“I’m _fine_.”

“You’re bleeding.”

She watched a muscle in his jaw leap as he clenched it tight.

She moved over to him, slow and cautious, as though she were approaching a wounded animal. She reached her hand out to touch a damaged wing and was unsurprised when he caught her wrist and held it between them.

“Don’t,” he whispered hollowly, “please.”

He wasn’t particularly hot, but his touch still burned, electric heat crawling like a blanket over her skin. She stared at him, his trauma resonating in the gap between them.

She held his gaze for one, tension-filled beat.

“Lucifer, you’re in pain,” she said quietly, “let me help you.”

He blinked, slow and heavy, before he gently gave her hand back to her. He didn’t say _yes_ , but he didn’t say _no_ either, and when he brushed past her to go to the couch, whiskey still in hand, he glanced behind like he expected her to follow.

She did.

Before he got there, he stumbled slightly and she caught him, slipping an arm under his wing and around his waist.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her body practically whining in outrage against the solid, 6 foot 3 wall of muscle she was attempting to hold up.

“Yes,” he hissed, wincing as one of his hands darted out to the couch to steady himself, “I just wish people would stop bloody shooting me.”

She huffed a humourless laugh, helping him to sit down on the couch, wings splayed behind him. She left him there, nursing his whiskey, while she grabbed a cloth from under the bar and ran it under a tap in his en-suite. When she returned, he looked tense and she noticed one of the bloodied bullets now laid discarded on the coffee table.

His voice was a little hoarse, the wind knocked out of him, when he spoke.

“Can’t reach the others.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes—to say _I know_ and _I’m here_ and _stop being so fucking stubborn._ She bit them all back, appreciating how difficult it was for him to be vulnerable, knowing he didn’t like people touching his wings. He didn’t like talking about them, about his Father and the fall and all the pain that had followed.

“I will help you,” she insisted instead.

She moved to stand behind him, taking a breath before she put the cloth to his wing and touched divinity for the first time.

He flinched, a discomfort that had nothing to do with his wounds.

“I know,” she said softly.

He didn’t say anything else so she continued, gently cleaning the feathers. It was strange, to see the pure white dusted in specks of red, to see blood on him at all. She soon found the second bullet, lodged in the feathers by his right shoulder blade. She tried to be gentle as she clasped it between her thumb and forefinger, but then decided _ripping the band aid off_ would be better.

She tugged it quickly and jumped as he hissed through his teeth in pain.

_“Bloody hell, woman!”_

She dropped the bullet with a clink on the glass coffee table, next to the first one.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said without malice.

He grumbled in response and took a very large sip of whiskey.

Her eyes drifted over the beautiful feathers, taking it all in. It wasn’t something she saw every day after-all, even in her very crazy world. She found the next bullet at the bottom of the same wing, close to his spine. She placed a hand on his left shoulder this time, squeezing it in a gesture she hoped was comforting as she pulled the bullet out.

He winced, his chest caving with a sharp, painful inhale of breath. 

“I don’t understand,” she said, his blood sticky and warm on her hands, just like everyone else's, as she rubbed the pads of her thumb and middle finger together, “why you’re bleeding now, and why you bled with Jimmy, but you were fine when Delilah was shot.”

He didn’t reply but his body looked and felt tense. 

“Do you know why?” she pushed him.

“I have my theories.”

She paused, surprised.

“Don’t fancy sharing them?”

His voice was quiet, low, when he said, “not tonight.”

She let it go. She knew he wouldn’t lie if she _ordered_ him to tell her—but he clearly didn’t want to and it wasn’t fair to ask. As her fingers drifted to his left wing, working on a bullet tangled in the bloodied feathers there, she thought he had given enough of himself tonight. 

She worked in silence, processing the gravity of what he had done for her, until there was only one bullet left.

“Thank you,” she whispered eventually.

 _Thank you for trusting me enough to touch your wings,_ she added in her mind. _Thank you for saving me again._

She removed the last bullet and more out of curiosity than anything else, threaded her fingers through the soft feathers. She registered the slight shudder that wracked his frame and though he did inhale, sharp and a little tremulous, it didn’t seem to be because he was in pain.

He glanced to the side, his face half-covered in darkness.

“You’re welcome, Chloe.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy early valentines, my loves! hope you enjoy this one😏

“You _told_ her?”

Chloe stared at Lucifer, her brows drawn into a frown as she tried to process what he’d just said. He gave a casual shrug, sitting back and extending his arm over the booth as he took a sip of whiskey.

“Well, her deranged ex _told_ her. She obviously asked and I confirmed it.”

The technicality made Chloe’s eye twitch in irritation.

“So Linda’s ex-husband rambled to her, and the police, about you being some sort of invulnerable being with huge wings… and instead of just laughing it off, you told her it was all true… _and_ showed her your devil face?”

He raised a brow, his fingers tapping idly along the booth’s edge.

“If I _laughed it off,_ that would have been a lie now, wouldn’t it?”

She shrugged. He loved his loopholes and he’d found his way around that little principle more than once before. Before she could ask her next question, he leaned forward slightly, a smirk curving his lips.

“Are you _jealous_ I told another human?” he guessed, sounding far too delighted at the prospect, “there’s no need, darling. You know you’re still my number one.”

She rolled her eyes because who _cared_ if she wasn’t the only human, bar Eve, who knew his secret anymore, and another woman—another woman he had _slept_ with—had seen that side of him and she wasn’t jealous at all.

She _wasn’t._

“How did she take it?” she asked.

His expression darkened slightly, becoming more serious. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and a little gruff.

“Not as well as you did.”

If she had been anyone else, she might have missed the flicker of pain that swept like a shadow over his features. But she wasn’t anyone else. She was his assistant, his _friend_ … and she knew what the sting of rejection looked like on him. 

“I’ll speak to her,” she decided then, “woman to woman, _human to human_. Trust me, I know how earth shattering this revelation is. She could probably use a friend right now.”

He watched her cautiously, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You would do that for me?”

Truthfully, there wasn’t a lot she _wouldn’t_ do for him. It was a depressing thought.

“And for Linda,” she insisted obstinately, “I had to go through it alone, but she doesn’t have to.”

He nodded, a little clipped and short, and his eyes flickered to the entrance of Lux as a man wandered inside. He looked nervous as he slowly made his way down the stairs and over to them, anxiously wringing his hands all the way. Chloe watched Lucifer’s mouth twitch in amusement and narrowed her eyes at him, silently telling him to _play nice._

Eventually, the man stood at the edge of the table, opposite Lucifer who sat in the booth, and next to Chloe who sat at a table by the side.

“I’m here to see Mr Morningstar,” he said like it was a question.

“Please,” Lucifer crooned as he waved a hand and gestured for him to take a seat in the booth next to him, “call me Lucifer.”

“Keith,” the man muttered, his cheeks already flushing pink with embarrassment. Chloe never pried when she booked the appointments, so she was intrigued to discover the nature of his favour.

She took pity on him when he struggled to voice his request.

“Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself?” she asked kindly.

He shifted in his seat.

“I’m… a florist. I own a store on the other side of town. I’m married to a woman I adore,” he started and shifted uncomfortably again, “and I need help.”

“Don’t we all?” Lucifer replied, his tone just this side of mocking.

Chloe threw him another warning look.

“You understood our terms and conditions as I explained them over the phone?” 

Keith nodded.

“Okay,” she closed the diary she had open on the table with a gentle thump, “so what exactly do you need help with?”

“Valentine’s Day is coming up and I want to learn how to please my wife,” he said suddenly, the words rushing out of his mouth as though if he didn’t say them quickly, he wouldn’t say them at all, “in the _bedroom_. You have no idea how embarrassing this is to admit, but she seems unsatisfied. I just want to make her happy.”

Chloe’s eyes slid to Lucifer, who looked positively delighted.

“Now _that_ I can certainly help with,” he practically purred, “I _am_ the king of desire, after-all.”

“He’s a smug bastard,” Chloe corrected, her voice light and teasing, “but he’s right. You’re in good hands.”

“So you’ll help me?”

Lucifer sat back and took a sip of whiskey. He liked to play with people, to test their boundaries and keep them in suspense, but Chloe knew he’d say _yes_. It was a fairly innocuous favour, after-all.

“I will,” he decided eventually, making Keith visibly sigh in relief, “I can talk you through it, give you some tips, direct you to some very _tasteful_ and _informative_ videos—” Chloe almost rolled her eyes again, knowing he was referring to the vast collection of porn he had made over the years, “—and if you’re feeling truly dedicated, you can watch me with a woman.”

“Would that not be cheating?” Keith asked warily, his eyes sliding to Chloe as though he wanted a woman’s perspective.

She shrugged.

“Everyone has their own boundaries. It doesn’t have to be all the way. You could just watch how he kisses, for example? Just to see the technique.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Keith nodded quickly, “will you show me now?”

“Easy tiger,” Lucifer chuckled, leaning forward to put his whiskey glass down on the table, “I’ll need to find my naughty girlfriend first, or another willing participant.”

Keith’s eyes, now holding a flicker of excitement, flitted to Chloe.

“Can’t you show me on _her_?”

To her surprise and ever-present frustration, Lucifer _laughed_.

“Well, first we’d have to surgically remove the stick up her ar—”

“—Lucifer!”

He laughed again, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He sat back, his brows raised and his dark eyes sparkling.

He was practically _daring_ her.

She narrowed her eyes, that competitive part of herself she normally kept locked away rearing its ugly head. It irritated her that he thought she was too prudish to help, that the mere prospect of it was laughable. She was stubborn and tenacious and she _never_ wanted to prove him right. 

“You really think I won’t?”

He smiled, salacious and slow.

“I _know_ you won’t.”

In another way, she knew what he was trying to do. He was toying with her as he toyed with everyone. Frustrated by her immunity to his charms, he was always looking for a way to break her, to bend her to his will.

It was annoying—and even _more_ annoying was the fact that it was _working._

She wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face. She wanted to ruffle those perfectly composed feathers.

“Swap seats with me, Keith,” she ordered quietly, keeping her eyes anchored on Lucifer’s amused face as the other man did as he was told. He settled into her chair while Chloe slid into the booth.

“If I’m going to kiss you…” she started, the words suddenly hitting her along with the thought _what the hell am I doing?_ “…I want a raise.”

Lucifer blinked before he laughed, seemingly thrilled.

“Exchanging intimate favours for money,” he hummed and then teased her by repeating the words she’d used to describe his time with Dr Linda, “if that had a name, what would they call it?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled and shifted a little closer, a shiver of anticipation curling through her stomach.

He slowly put his right arm around the back of the booth, drawing her closer still. She swallowed, trying to keep her expression neutral as the scent of him surrounded her like a cloud. It was all expensive cologne and whiskey and smoke—a warm, heady feeling that shimmied over her skin, fighting for a way in. She always kept herself so guarded around him, those walls up tight, she never let the feeling penetrate. Now, under the guise of a game, she lowered the walls slightly and tried not to think about how she might live to regret it.

“Forgive me,” Lucifer kept his eyes on Chloe, but he was speaking to Keith, “this is quite the turn of events. I need a moment to bask.”

“I hate you,” Chloe muttered, exasperated, her eyes falling shut.

“Not the best start,” he quipped, his eyes dragging to Keith, “but we adjust. I assume your wife isn’t so stubborn about her desires?”

 _I don’t desire you,_ Chloe repeated like a mantra inside her head, fighting against a contending voice that called her a liar, _I don’t desire you, I don’t desire you._

Keith shook his head, blinking dumbly.

“Wonderful,” Lucifer turned back to her and brought his left hand up, slowly cupping her cheek, “now you’ll want to start slow. Don’t just jump in like a juvenile schoolboy. Remember—it’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Chloe swallowed, her eyes dropping like an anchor to his mouth. He leaned in, making her heart stutter in her chest, before he pulled back slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Keith leaning forward in his chair, as enthralled and pulled into Lucifer’s gravity as she was.

“Now every kiss is different. You’ll want to match your partner’s energy,” Lucifer started, his thumb swiping gently over her flushed cheekbone, “but in general, if you watch and try to emulate what I do, you can’t go wrong.”

Chloe wanted to roll her eyes at his arrogance but she _couldn’t_ —her gaze was too fixated on his lips, the way they formed around his words, spoken in that sinful accent, the way they would taste when he finally did close the gap. The tension was killing her, a flame ignited and licking between her thighs.

He leaned in again, all the air sucked out of the room, tension brimming and burning between them.

“You might want to give her a compliment,” Lucifer murmured, so close now she could feel the heat of his breath against her—whiskey and mint and _man_. As he spoke his next words, the pad of his thumb gently traced her bottom lip, “Miss Decker has the most beautiful lips… but I’m sure your wife has her own unique appeal to you.”

Keith might have nodded but Chloe had no idea. He was as silent as she was and quite frankly, she didn’t care about his presence. She was reeling from the compliment, the revelation that Lucifer found at least one part of her beautiful, and if he liked her lips, had he wanted to kiss her before? Had he _always_ wanted to kiss her?

She was completely sober and _yet—_ she felt drunk.

Student, teacher and test subject were all quiet then as he finally, _finally,_ drew closer. Chloe took a breath, her eyelids softly fluttering shut. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, so much so that she irrationally worried he would hear it. One hand remained on the booth’s edge next to her, caging her in, while the other cupped her cheek again. The metal of his ring was a soothing palm against her burning skin. 

Her lips parted as she felt his warm breath wash over them.

She pushed past the doubt, the whispers telling her this was _not_ a good idea, and tried to relax as he gently pressed his lips to hers.

It was just a brush of mouths at first, a charged connection that made her pull back in fright. She inhaled sharply, her own hands travelling to the lapels of his suit jacket, and his hand slipped from her cheek slightly. He was ready to let her go, to end the game before it had begun if it was distressing her, but distress wasn’t why she’d pulled back.

Her fingers tightened around the expensive material and _she_ pressed into _him._ He tried not to let his surprise show, a little hum rolling from the back of his throat as he readily accepted the kiss. It was only a momentary lapse before he took control again and she yielded beneath him. Their lips just connected at first, both breathing through their noses. Then, he began to move his mouth.

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug, pulling a mortifying moan from her. She felt the curve of his smirk against her, his lips pillowy soft as he kissed her again. When he slowly pulled back, she wanted to whine.

“What about—” Keith had to clear his throat and try again, “—what about tongue?”

Chloe wanted to cry in equal parts desire and despair.

“Marathon,” Lucifer reminded him and his eyes were still on her, pupils blown to black, and why was his voice so _low?_

He looked at her a little cautiously and she realised he was asking for permission. He was probably starkly aware he had promised he would never touch her unless she wanted him to—and while the context of this was a game, an extension of the push and pull that had always existed between them, she _did_ want him to.

She nodded and leaned in and it was all the permission he needed.

This time, as his mouth slanted over hers, she felt his tongue run along the seam of her lips. She opened for him, blossoming under his touch, and couldn’t stop her moan when his tongue slipped inside her mouth. It gently massaged hers, each stroke sending a lick of heat between her thighs. She shifted in the booth, clenching them together to try and relieve the ache, as his other hand came to cup her face.

He tasted like whiskey and smoke and something else she couldn’t put her finger on; all she knew was that she wanted _more_ , and this wasn’t as strange as it ought to be.

One of her hands slipped from his chest to his hair. She threaded her fingers through the soft, dark strands and her aching core clenched around nothing at the silken _purr_ he released into her mouth. She felt like she was on fire, as though he had literally summoned the flames of hell through his fingers and was burning her with them.

When they finally pulled away, lips swollen and breathing heavily, it took her a beat to remember they had an audience.

The pink tinging her cheeks intensified at Keith’s astonished, wide-eyed stare.

“If you’ve done it right, when you _do_ finally slip your hand down there,” Lucifer was speaking to the importance of the kiss, his voice low and deep, as the fingers of his left hand casually danced down her side, “she’ll already be wet for you.”

His dark eyes flickered down to her thighs, as though he knew _exactly_ what he’d find between them.

Chloe shuffled back, needing to put some space between them, and he seemed rattled too. Her eyes widened when she spotted a tiny pool of blood on his lip, where she had clearly gotten too enthusiastic.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice sounding thick and hoarse to her own ears, and she wiped it away with her thumb.

He blinked and took her hand, staring at the speck of red as though he had never seen blood before. His jaw clenched tight, a muscle near his ear ticking, and he suddenly stood.

He gave a prim little tug on his jacket.

“Well, I trust that was informative,” he cleared his throat, adjusting his cuffs, “Robin, book a few more sessions in the diary with our friend here. You said you were a florist, correct?”

Keith blinked like an owl and nodded.

“I know what I want for payment,” he declared, “no need for an IOU. Leave your details with my assistant and I’ll be paying you a visit.”

Chloe opened her mouth to ask _for what exactly?_

Before she could, Lucifer was gone to fetch her diary. He slid it across the table to her and gave it two taps.

Then he was gone, taking that unreadable expression on his face with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because what is a slow-burn, friends-to-lovers story without a first kiss under inventive, false pretences?! 
> 
> next update will be next week, but we're sticking with valentines day because I had more ideas for this chapter, but somehow ended up using like 1000 words to describe a kiss instead🤦🏼♀️ as always, thank you for your lovely comments and kudos :)


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey Robin!"

Chloe blinked into life, shifting in her stool as Eve walked behind the bar and helped herself to a shot of vodka.

She didn't bother correcting her, too lost in thought. Her mind was reeling from the phone call she had just taken, the one from Detective Espinoza. He had told her they had re-opened her father's case, that they didn't think Joe Fields had killed him at all, and that a new trial would start soon.

It had been a long time, but Chloe still felt the pain of John Decker's death every day. The notion that they were back to square one, that justice had _never_ been served, settled like a heavy stone in her chest.

"Hi Eve," she found her voice eventually, hearing it dry and hoarse.

"You okay?" the other woman asked and poured a shot for her, too. Under normal circumstances, just past midday on a Monday afternoon, she would have pushed it away. Today, she knocked it back, grateful for the burn as it scorched its way down her throat.

Before she could make an excuse for her sadness, Lucifer was making his way down from the penthouse and over to the bar. He was whistling an easy tune, his hands behind his back, and he seemed pleased to see them together.

He went to Eve first, walking behind the bar.

"Hello darling," he murmured, giving her a kiss on the cheek, before one hand came from behind his back, "for the two most important women in my life."

With his usual dramatic flair, he revealed two roses, giving one to Eve and then, to her surprise, the other to Chloe.

"Happy Valentines," he said warmly, "I've never cared much for ridiculous human holidays, but as this one is all about desire..."

Chloe blinked, slowly reaching out to take the rose. It was beautiful, perfectly formed with blush pink petals, and she stared at it like it might suddenly come alive. There was a tightness to Eve's smile, betraying the notion that gratitude wasn't all she was feeling, even as she kissed his lips and murmured a _thank you._

"It's beautiful," Chloe breathed, looking at it from all angles and trying to ignore the sour feeling that brushed over her when they kissed.

Eve was _allowed_ to kiss him. She was allowed to hold his hand and sleep in his bed and tell him she loved him. Chloe still remembered how his lips felt on hers but she also remembered it was only a game, a test.

It wasn't real.

But the jealousy, the heat in her stomach and tightness in her chest… that felt very real.

"It's a Juliet Rose," he informed them, preening a little under the attention and praise, "originally 5 million dollars but I didn't pay _quite_ as much. You remember our friend, Keith? He helped me acquire them. His lessons are coming along _very_ nicely."

Chloe's eyes widened at the absurd price. She wouldn't have been surprised if he _did_ pay that much, his bank account was ridiculous and his lavish tastes even more so, but she was glad he hadn't. She gently laid the rose on the bar as he slid something else to her.

She felt the burn of two sets of eyes on her as she unwrapped the gift.

The tissue paper fell away to reveal a black leather bound diary, her initials _CJD_ engraved in gold lettering in the bottom right corner. Her eyes and throat inexplicably burning, she slowly opened the diary to the first page and read the simple message he had written in his elegant cursive:

_To Robin,_

_My assistant, my partner, my friend._

_Yours,_

_Lucifer._

"Lucifer…" she breathed, surprised and touched, "this is… so thoughtful. Thank you."

He shrugged and she was quite sure she had never seen him look so uncertain and almost bashful. He was so confident, so outrageous and wild, she didn't think they were emotions he could even _feel._ They looked strange, etched on his handsome face.

"Thought it was time for an upgrade," he said, "even if you do have no idea how to use a little black book."

Chloe suddenly noticed that Eve was practically bristling next to him. Her jaw was clenched, her mouth pinched, and finally, she stormed off in an obvious huff.

Lucifer blinked and watched her go, totally oblivious.

Chloe threw him a flat look.

" _What?"_ he half-laughed, "she got her other present last night."

"Which was?"

"An _outrageously_ expensive vibrator that I can control with my phone."

Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Deep down, she felt a cheap thrill at the fact her present was ostensibly more thoughtful than Eve's. It wasn't difficult to be romanced by Lucifer, to be seduced. It didn't take much to be called his lover—but it took a _lot_ to be called his friend.

"Well, thank you," she said again, because she didn't want to talk about Eve anymore, "I love them. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"I think you do enough for me all year round, don't you?"

She shrugged and was suddenly hit by another wave of sadness.

He noticed immediately.

"What's wrong?"

She thought about lying, about not telling him, then she realised she didn't want to carry this alone. She picked the rose up again, fingering the stem, just to keep her hands busy.

"They're re-opening my Dad's case," she told him quietly, "the trial starts next week. I've got to go and watch it, re-live it, all over again."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "I never cared for my father, but I understand they are quite important to many of you humans."

She swallowed and then her mouth was moving without her permission as she blurted out, "will you come with me?"

His lips parted in surprise, the briefest flicker of it before he schooled his expression into cool composure, and then he gave a short nod.

"I'll be there."

He promised and her eyes fell to the diary again, zeroing in on one very significant word he'd used.

_Yours.  
  
_

* * *

  
Chloe bit her nail, her eyes darting anxiously between the door of the courthouse and the room where the trial was about to start.

She was pacing, her heels clicking on the clinical stone floor, as she waited for Lucifer to arrive. Quiet fury bubbled inside her at the fact he was so late, at his lack of care, and it only intensified when the courtroom door creaked open.

"Chloe?" Dan was peeking his head around the frame, his fingers curled around the wood and his expression concerned, "we're about to start."

She sighed, throwing one more look at the door, as though Lucifer were about to burst through it in his normal outlandish, unapologetic fashion.

But he didn't.

As the trial started and melted into the afternoon, Chloe thought about her boss' apparent insistence on telling the truth. She wondered if that had changed too, if he could lie as well as he could bleed.

Because he said _I'll be there—_ but he never came.  
  


* * *

  
For the next few days, she ignored his calls.

She ignored every effort to speak to her, deleting voicemails without listening to them and handing the assistant reigns over to Maze. She was furious but more than that, she was _hurt,_ and she didn't understand why he'd done it.

She decided to focus on Linda, to pay her another visit and see how she was coping with the news that her latest patient was the former Lord of Hell. She had spoken to her once about it, visited her on the back of the first meeting with Keith, but she hadn't seen her since. She seemed to be dealing with it well, her shock having evolved into intrigue, a desire to crack the most fascinating case.

This was how Chloe found herself in Dr Martin's office, staring at a tape on the desk, dated a few days ago and labelled _Lucifer Morningstar._

She shouldn't have come here. She shouldn't have pushed the ajar door open when knocking awarded her no response. She shouldn't have walked inside anyway and she _definitely_ shouldn't be putting that tape in the tape recorder and pressing _play._

And _yet_ —Chloe found herself doing all these things.

She tried to ignore the nagging voice at the back of her mind, admonishing her for her lack of boundaries, telling her this was an invasion of privacy. She was too annoyed at him to care, too curious to walk away, and if she was honest with herself, too depressingly desperate for a glimpse into that strange, unreachable mind.

She skipped past talk of Lux and Eve and his exasperation at Linda's constant questions about Hell's occupants. Finally, just after he told her that _no,_ there was no such thing as a "dictator wing" but _yes,_ Hitler was very much getting the eternal torment he deserved, Chloe heard the first mention of what had happened at the courthouse.

_"You chickened out."_

She could practically _see_ him adjusting his cuffs, shifting on the therapist's couch.

 _"The Devil does not chicken out,"_ his accent, tinged with outrage, floated through the tape.

_"Yes, he does. You were afraid."_

He laughed at Linda's accusation, a hollow and false sound.

_"That's ridiculous."_

_"You were afraid of these new feelings you've been having,"_ Linda said gently, piquing Chloe's interest, _"what it meant that she was the only one you wanted near you after Delilah died, and what it meant that a director wrote a film about you falling in love. You were afraid to confront the reasons you told Detective Espinoza she was unavailable, and why you trusted her enough to let her touch your wings. So when you realised she trusted you too with her father's case, looked to you for comfort and wanted you there on the most important day of her life, you ran."_

There was silence on the other end of the tape. Chloe listened, tense and surprised, trying to process that he had told Linda all of this.

 _"I didn't lie,_ " he said then, his voice quiet, _"when I promised I'd be there, I truly had every intention of going. I was just…"_ he stopped short of admitting what Linda knew, _"…confused."_

_"Why were you confused?"_

_"For all the reasons you said, I suppose."_

_"Okay, that's a good start,"_ Linda reassured him and while it was still there, the hot ball of anger inside Chloe's chest started to curl inwards, _"you're being more honest, so maybe you can tell me this. What does Chloe mean to you?"_

Chloe inhaled, a vice around her heart. She told herself again how she should walk away, how she shouldn't be listening to this, but there was no way she could turn back now. She had to know, even if the implication brimming and burning between them was becoming harder and more painful to ignore.

She heard his matching exhale before he started.

 _"When I came here, to Earth, I never expected to connect with a human. It had simply never happened before. I never needed anyone before. Of course, I always had Maze and there's Eve, but Chloe… she's different,"_ he paused, as though he found it hard to say the words, and hearing her name, the intensity behind it, was hard too, " _I suppose what I'm trying to say, very ineloquently, is… she's my best friend."_

Warmth spread like a blanket over Chloe's skin, an ache so intense, it was almost painful.

_"Is that all she is?"_

The atmosphere felt thin, as though all the air had been sucked out of the room, and the suggestion behind the question was choking her.

 _"Well, there is something else,"_ Lucifer said, _"a theory that's becoming harder to ignore. I'm not quite sure when it happened, or what it means."_

Linda exhibited far more patience than Chloe as she waited for him to elaborate.

_"I told you how I can bleed now, how it's been happening more and more frequently. At first, I couldn't put the pieces together. I couldn't work out why or how or what was causing it. When my lip bled the other day, the latest in a long line of incidents, I knew."_

Chloe listened with bated breath, desperate for the answer.

_"Knew what?"_

_"It's Chloe,"_ he murmured, _"I'm only vulnerable when I'm close to her."_


	11. Chapter 11

Chloe was dreaming.

She knew she was dreaming.

She was watching herself from the outside, her back arching against golden sheets as Lucifer’s mouth moved between her thighs. She shuddered, her hand travelling down to thread her fingers through black curls.

Her other hand gripped the sheets in a fist of silk, her toes curling into the bed. His tongue was warm and wet as it rolled over her, just as talented as she always knew it would be. Her thighs trembled around his head as a thick growl escaped his throat, reverberating against her. The vibration, the added stimulation, rocketed her into release, liquid pleasure rushing through her and eclipsing anything she ever _thought_ was pleasure in the past.

She shivered in the afterglow as he climbed up her body, the snake from the Garden, enticing her to finally give in to temptation. 

Her hand darted between them, attempting to touch the impressive hardness erect against his belly. Even in her dreams, it gave her a thrill, to have such an effect on a man like him. He settled between her legs and she felt it twitch, hot and hard, against her wetness.

He shook his head at her impatience and moved her hand away.

“Slow,” he ordered lowly.

She closed her eyes, heart pounding against her chest, and then he was kissing her and it was nothing like that first kiss in the booth, all those weeks ago. This time, he was kissing her because he _wanted_ her, and she wanted him, and hadn’t it always been that way?

His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue licking inside and granting her a taste of herself.

“It’s all been so fast,” she panted when they broke away, cheeks so hot she was sure she’d burst into flames.

“It’s been years,” he disagreed, pupils blown to black with a desire that, for once, was completely his own, “how much longer do you need? How many more nights do I need to spend away from you?”

“You’re right,” she agreed breathlessly, tired of fighting it, “so fuck me, Lucifer. Haven’t we waited long enough?”

His answering smile, dirty and slow, flared heat low in her core. He covered her mouth with his and slipped inside her.

It was her own heavy moan that jolted her awake.

Breathless and aching with equal parts desire and fear, she glanced to her nightstand where her phone lay. She gave it a couple of impatient taps, watching the screen flare to life with the time _03:15._ She slumped back into the sheets, cold and alone, and fought the urge to slip her fingers between her thighs.

But she couldn’t fight something else — an irrevocable, miserable truth that she could no longer deny.

She was no angel, but she was falling.  
  


* * *

  
“You really think they’ll find him guilty?” Chloe asked about Perry Smith, the man they were now sure was responsible for her father’s death.

From where he sat opposite her at the desk in one of Lux’s back offices, the club’s books between them, Dan gave a confident nod.

“I do,” he said, “the evidence is substantial to say the least, and the LAPD has presented it perfectly.”

Chloe laughed, quirking a brow in amusement.

“Not that you’re biased or anything.”

Dan laughed too; it was a pleasant sound. She was grateful for his help, his support, over the last few weeks and she felt the need to tell him.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, “for coming here. For keeping me in the loop with the case. I really appreciate it.”

Dan smiled, bright and wide. The affection he had for her was clear to see; it almost made her feel guilty. She knew she couldn’t return it, not when her mind was so wrapped up in knots from _whatever the hell_ this was with Lucifer.

She was slowly coming to terms with the fact that things had changed between them. It was a painful truth, one that she could no longer push down and deny, and while she was sure he felt _something_ for her too, she was also sure it wasn’t enough. They both had so many issues, traumas and scars, both physical and mental. Sometimes she thought the latter were more painful.

Speaking of Lucifer, he chose this moment to walk through the door. He paused, surprise flickering over his face, when he saw Dan sitting opposite her.

“Oh, hello Daniel,” he said, his smile a little guarded and tight, “you haven’t found more reprobates selling drugs in my club, have you? When _will_ they learn?”

Chloe almost rolled her eyes, knowing Lucifer didn’t give two shits about the illegal activities going on in Lux. In-fact, he revelled in the illicit, the unruly and the forbidden. He wanted people to give in to temptation, to act on their desires. Eve was proof enough of that. _Let them have their fun,_ he’d dismiss when they saw a packet of white powder exchange hands, giving a tell-tale sniff of his own.

“No, I just came to catch Chloe up on her Dad’s case,” Dan explained, “and to see how she’s doing.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw leaping.

“How kind of you,” he said, “but I’m here now, so you can go.”

Chloe’s eyes slid between the two of them, the atmosphere tense. Dan stood slowly and gave her a nod of acknowledgement.

“I’ll speak to you soon, Chloe. It was nice seeing you.”

“You too,” she said.

Lucifer scoffed and quite literally _shooed_ him out the door.

“Come on. Off you pop.”

Dan rolled his eyes but didn’t protest and then the door closed and they were alone.

“That was rather rude,” Chloe frowned as she stood up and walked around the desk, standing toe to toe with him.

Lucifer bristled and gave a tug on his jacket.

“I told you, I don’t like _Detective Douche_ sniffing around here.”

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest, seeing past his bullshit excuses.

“Why didn’t you just piss on me?” she asked dryly, annoyed at being treated like an object for two men to peacock over, “would have been quicker.”

“Not really my kink, darling.”

She blinked at his quick response.

“Lucifer, this isn’t funny,” she sighed in defeat, “it just hurts.”

His charming smile slipped a little, a look of sincerity passing over his face.

“Never meant to hurt you,” he murmured, so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

But she _did_ hear it, and she’d heard his reasons on the tape too, and she was still hurting.

“Well then maybe you should’ve turned up at the courthouse,” she said bitterly and then felt her anger rise, “I mean, where do you get off?”

He opened his mouth to reply but she screwed her eyes shut and held a hand up.

“Don’t answer that,” she muttered, knowing he’d turn it into something dirty, “I am _always_ there for you. Not Linda, not Maze, not Eve— _me_. I’ve been here through everything and the one time I needed you, you let me down. And now you have the audacity to come in here acting like some of _jealous boyfriend_ , when who I spend time with is none of your business. Might I also remind you, you _have_ a girlfriend.”

He didn’t do commitment and his relationship with Eve wasn’t exclusive but _still—_ what they were doing here, this weird push and pull between them, it wasn’t fair to her either.

“I am, you know.”

“You are _what?_ ”

“Jealous.”

She paused and swallowed thickly.

“What am I supposed to do with that, Lucifer?”

He didn’t answer, as though he didn’t know what to do with it either, and then he was ostensibly changing the subject.

“Maze said you were going to see Dr Martin,” he said, “I understand she wasn’t there?”

Chloe’s brows drew into a frown.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I made sure she wasn’t,” he said simply, “I asked Maze when you were going and I took her out for lunch.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because I know she tapes our sessions.”

Chloe sighed in exasperation, tired of going around in circles and wanting him to get to the point.

“Lucifer, what are you saying?”

“I’m _saying_ I knew the office would be empty, I knew a tape would _conveniently_ be left on the desk, and I know how terribly nosy you are.”

Chloe paused, the realisation hitting her square in the chest. He planted that tape, put it there on purpose. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before.

He _wanted_ her to know.

He wanted her to hear all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

She watched him struggle with it, true emotion fighting to break through the guarded expression on his face. She knew the scars he carried, how hard it was for him to be vulnerable. It was hard for her too.

He wasn’t ready—and neither was she.

“Chloe, there’s just so much…” he paused, the words lodging in his throat. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he shook his head slightly.

She nodded, her eyes and throat burning.

“I know.”

She watched the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“I really am sorry,” he said quietly.

“I know that too.”

“Allow me to acquit myself,” he said, resting a hand over his heart, “when are you next due in court?”

“Friday.”

“I’ll be there,” he followed the depressingly predictable wave of _déjà vu_ that washed over her with a promise, “I mean it.”

She considered him, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of insincerity. She found none, and while she didn’t _understand_ him, why he did the things he did and why he was only vulnerable around her, she knew he would never intentionally try to hurt her. She chose to take a leap of faith and believe him.

“Okay,” she said quietly, and then felt the need to say something else, “but you can’t tell me who I can and can’t date. That’s not in my job description.”

He stood back and straightened slightly. He cleared his throat and adjusted his cuffs, as close to uncomfortable as Lucifer Morningstar got.

“You’re thinking of _dating_ Detective Douche, then?”

She rolled her eyes at the moniker, placing her hands on the desk behind her and leaning back into it.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, hating how predictable she was because she craved the fire in his eyes when he was jealous, “he’s been quite supportive with my Dad’s case and to me, in general. He even said there’s a training programme at the Academy if I wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps.”

It was something she had mentioned before, but not for a very long time. It had always stayed in her mind, a dream pushed down and forgotten. When she shared it with Dan, he seemed all too happy to help her get into the career.

Now, she wondered what Lucifer would say about it, what he would do if she said she wanted to leave.

“What would I call you?” his nose scrunched slightly because she _had_ to have a nickname and Robin would no longer be appropriate, “ _Detective_?”

“No, that’s _boring_ ,” she said, thoroughly unimpressed, “so you would be okay with it, if I left to join that Academy? You want me pursue it?”

She waited impatiently, unsure what answer she wanted him to give.

She wanted him to support her, to tell her to follow her dream.

She wanted him to demand she stay, to never leave him.

Finally, his mouth twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I want you to be happy, Robin,” he said gently, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She could work with that. And the next time she sat in the courthouse, listening to the ‘guilty’ verdict ring out for Perry Smith, Lucifer was right by her side.  
  


* * *

  
Chloe noticed the forlorn look Maze was throwing an excitable Eve, twisting and turning on the dancefloor.

She dragged her eyes back to the bartender, raising a pointed brow.

“What?” the demon snapped, a curious blush bleeding into her cheekbones. 

“You _like_ her,” Chloe sang, her light-hearted accusation fighting for precedence against the pounding bass.

Maze scoffed, wiping an area of the bar so aggressively, Chloe was sure she would burn a hole in the surface.

“She’s hot,” she shrugged, “so what? That doesn’t mean anything.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, hopped off the barstool and took her by the wrist. Maze huffed in annoyance but let herself be dragged away, leaving the bar in the hands of the other servers. Chloe found a quiet booth and practically threw her into it.

“Maze, I’ve known you for years and I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that.”

The demon blinked and sighed, casting her eyes to her lap. She looked nervous and unsure, expressions that were strange to see on her normally confident face.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shrugged, “ _even if_ … she has so much shit going on, she wouldn’t even look at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” she started, leaning in conspiratorially, “ _Adam’s_ here. He just came down and insisted he wanted her back, was basically grovelling on his knees. It was totally pathetic. Obviously she told him where to go, that she was _in love_ with Lucifer—” she paused to roll her eyes, as though the notion was absurd, “—but he said he’s not taking no for an answer.”

“Way to sound like a predator,” Chloe cringed.

“I know. But he just kept saying he’s already lost her once and he didn’t realise what a good thing he had until it was gone.”

“Typical. I thought he was obsessed with Lillith—oh, I’m so sorry—”

Maze waved a dismissive hand but Chloe didn’t miss the flicker of pain that passed through her eyes at the mention of her mother.

“Don’t be,” she shook her head, “but speaking of parents… I was glad to hear the vile creature who killed your Dad was finally put away.”

Chloe smiled, touched by her rare show of sincerity and affection.

“Me too,” she said and then tried again, “it doesn’t take the pain of losing him away.”

“You had a father who loved you. He gave a shit about you,” Maze shrugged, as though that eased the blow, “that’s more than a lot of people get.”

Chloe felt a flicker of sympathy bloom in her chest.

“You never talk about your mother,” she said gently.

“Not much to say,” Maze shrugged, “Lilith can hardly be called a mother. The only reason I _might_ want to see her again is so I can tell her to _go fuck herself_ and then stab her with one my blades.”

She sniffed, her eyes glassy and her voice strained with emotion, despite her attempt at indifference. The flicker of hurt in Chloe’s chest blossomed into a full-blown ache. She didn’t want to push Maze, wouldn’t force her to show her feelings, but she _did_ want her to know she could talk to her.

“You’re not alone, Maze,” she said and then leaned in to embrace her.

As Maze fiercely returned the hug without question, Chloe realised something else.

Neither was she. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're cooking with gas now, trust me! I know I've been teasing you all with the slow burn, but I hope Chloe admitting it and finally starting to come to terms with her feelings is a happy and welcome revelation. Things will certainly be moving a little quicker now, with big drama in the next couple of chapters... I'm probably introducing too many plot points/throwing things at this fic and seeing which ones stick haha but 🤷🏼♀️ we'll see where it goes. thank you for all your lovely reviews <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up huns, this is an intense one! TW for some threatening behaviour/violence in the beginning.

Chloe stared at the man on the other side of the door, her heart in her throat.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe,_ and the man’s smile was slow and cruel.

“Hi baby.”

Hearing his voice again was like a punch to the gut. It dragged painful memories from the pit of her stomach, kicking and screaming to the surface—all the feelings she had tried for so long to forget, to pretend she had never felt at all. She inhaled sharply, pulling in shards of glass with every breath.

“Jed…”

“Missed me?”

With his hair and beard slightly longer, but that cold glint still alive in his eyes, he looked different and yet the same. Chloe took a step back, keeping her eyes on him, slow and steady, before she quickly tried to slam the door in his face.

She closed her eyes in defeat as his hand flew out to stop it. His fingers curled around the frame and then he wrenched the door open, forcing his way inside.

As he grabbed her by the throat and pushed her against the door, the lock loud as it clicked shut again, Chloe was hit by a sickening wave of déjà vu. The feeling burned behind her eyes, in her lungs, a fear she hadn’t felt in years.

“When did you get out?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, even as his fingers pushed and bit into her throat.

“Just last week,” he answered, his sharp, unkind eyes searching her face for weakness, “I know I should’ve stayed away, _ran_ away, built a new life for myself… but I just couldn’t resist visiting the little _bitch—_ ” she flinched as he spat, “—who put me in jail first. I’ve spent three years rotting in a cell, thinking of nothing but this moment...”

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, adrenalin rushing through her veins, but she remained calm.

“Three years isn’t long for smuggling a Class A drug, amongst other things,” she quipped, her mind spinning as she tried to work out _how_ he was here.

His smile turned even colder and crueller, a hint of smugness at the edges.

“Got off on a technicality,” he shrugged, “holes in an already shaky case, tampering with evidence, confession while under duress, police corruption—take your pick. What matters is _I’ve got friends in high places_ … but so have you, I seem to remember. You’re not so brave without your freak boyfriend around to save you, are you?”

She screwed her eyes shut, her eyes and throat burning in her stubborn refusal to shed tears. His grip on her neck tightened, fingers pressing in and turning tan skin white, as he leaned in until his lips brushed her ear.

“Now you listen to me, you _cunt_ ,” he spat, his breath washing over her, “you better watch your back. You think you had it bad before? You’ll _beg_ for those days back. You’ll think I was fucking _generous_. I’ll never stop. You’ll always be looking over your shoulder. You’re going to pay for what you did.”

“Jed—”

He cut her off, giving her a rough shove into the door before he stood back.

“See you around, baby.”

She moved numbly to the side as he pushed past her and out the door.

She waited until he was gone to sink down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees, and only when she heard the splutter of an engine leave her driveway did she allow herself to cry.  
  


* * *

  
“He’s not here.”

Eve sounded as miserable as Chloe felt as the elevator doors whistled open.

She faltered at the threshold for a moment before she stepped into the penthouse and let the doors close behind her. She decided to walk in anyway. Lucifer wasn’t here but there was nothing waiting for her at home either, nothing good.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked as she approached the piano where Eve was sitting. The other woman shrugged softly and idly hit a note.

It rang out, discordant and hollow, and hung awkwardly in the air.

Eve silently shuffled over, making room for her on the piano bench. Chloe hesitated for a moment before she sat down. She ran a finger of her own across the keys, thinking of the beautiful melodies Lucifer fashioned from them with his talent.

“I only caught parts of your call,” Eve said quietly, referencing the tearful phone call she had made to Lucifer an hour ago, as soon as Jed had left, “I’m really sorry your ex is back, and for everything he did to you. You don’t deserve that.”

Chloe smiled, sad and small.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, “I know Adam’s back as well.”

Eve flinched slightly at the name, making guilt flare in Chloe’s chest.

“I guess we’ve both made some shitty decisions when it comes to relationships.”

“You never had a choice,” Chloe said gently. She knew it was different for Eve because she was _made_ for Adam, an entire existence moulded from a rib for someone else. 

“Neither did you,” Eve insisted nonetheless, “you didn’t choose what happened to you. He sounds like a real piece of shit. If it helps… the other day, Lucifer threatened to send Adam back to where he came from. Used his devil face and everything, I’ve never seen Adam so pale. I’m sure he’ll do the same thing to your ex.”

Chloe attempted a smile, the muscles in her face twitching in refusal.

“Where is he?” she asked—though deep down, she _knew_.

Eve swallowed, her eyes downcast and focused on the keys.

“I’ve _never_ seen him like that,” she whispered heavily, a tremulous note to her voice, “after you called, when you told him what your ex had said… he was _so_ angry. He crushed the phone in his hand,” her eyes flickered up to find the twisted mess of plastic and metal laying on the piano, “his eyes were red, like he couldn’t control himself. He left and told me not to follow.”

Chloe felt her words like an ache in her chest, the notion that he cared so deeply.

She went to reply but Eve was speaking again in a cryptic whisper, more to herself than to Chloe.

“Adam was right.”

“What?”

She shook her head and then the elevator doors chimed open.  
  


* * *

  
“What happened?”

Chloe was still sitting on the piano stool, having twisted her body so she could watch him standing at the bar, filling a glass with amber liquid. Eve had left around ten minutes ago with a quiet, strangely deflated _“I’ll leave you two alone”_ and Lucifer still hadn’t said a word.

“I told him to stay away,” he answered shortly, knocking back an entire glass of whiskey with a hiss before he poured himself another.

Chloe was strangely, irrationally, _disappointed_.

“That’s all?”

He raised a brow, putting his glass down, his fingers still clasped loosely around it.

“What else is there?”

She hadn’t thought about it, but now he’d asked, the realisation hit Chloe like a freight train. She knew what she wanted. She knew the only way out. It settled heavily in her chest, a burden, a knife’s edge she wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“He won’t stay away. He didn’t seem afraid of you anymore,” she said slowly, noticing how his grim expression didn’t speak to the contrary, “he’s fixated on revenge and he’ll never stop.”

“You didn’t put him in that cell. His own crimes did.”

“He doesn’t see it that way,” she argued, shifting on the piano stool, “he hates me and he’s going to make me pay, unless…”

“Unless?”

She swallowed, the air thin between them.

“Unless we do something permanent.”

He lifted his chin, realisation flickering over his half-lit face. He didn’t insult her by pretending not to understand. He didn’t pretend she meant life in prison.

“Robin…”

She shook her head at the nickname.

“I know what I’m saying,” she said determinedly, as though it all seemed so simple now, and it _did_ , “I’m upset and I’m scared—but I know what I’m saying.”

Lucifer drank his scotch again, leaving the mostly empty glass on the bar as he made his way towards her. She met him halfway, standing up from the piano and leaning her back against it.

“I don’t think you do,” he said quietly.

Her mind _did_ feel fuzzy, unspoken trauma bubbling to the surface. It felt like Jed had quite literally reached in and pulled the horrible memories right out of her—every slap, every punch and cut and bruise. Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly, and there was a lot she didn’t know, but she knew she _hated_ him. She knew she didn’t want to live in fear and she knew she wanted him gone.

She knew Lucifer was powerful enough to make it happen.

He could send him to the Hell he’d spent eons ruling over. He could make it hurt, the way he had hurt her.

He just had to agree.

“I _do_ ,” she insisted, “he can’t just openly threaten me and get away with it. I can’t just lock myself away in the house, terrified that _this_ time he’ll finish the job.”

“I told you, I ordered him to stay away.”

“But he won’t!” she insisted, raising her voice slightly in her frustration, “he has nothing to lose. Threatening him won’t work. Setting him up again won’t work, he said he has friends in high places, he’ll worm his way out again. This is the only way to put him down for good.”

She _hated_ how her voice was shaking, and her hands even more so, and his own fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for her.

He didn’t.

Instead, he held her gaze and murmured a simple—

“No.”

The word was like throwing gasoline onto a fire.

“You threatened to send Adam back to where he came from, where he belonged. You _know_ where Jed belongs, but you won’t send him there,” she fired back, ugly jealousy twisting like a knife inside her, “you’ll do it for Eve, but you won’t do it for me. Why, because she _fucks_ you? If I _fuck_ you, will you listen to me?”

His jaw ticked, anger flashing like lightning across his face. He schooled it quickly, made it disappear, but she yearned for a reaction and knew she’d got one.

“Don’t do that,” he said lowly, “you know it’s more than that.”

She was too upset to question exactly what “ _it”_ was in reference to. She wondered if he meant the situation, the complicated moral dilemma of ending a human life, or if he meant what was going on between them—the fact that their relationship had undeniably morphed into something inexplicable and new.

She was frustrated to feel tears burning behind her eyes and she stubbornly held them back.

“I promise you,” she whispered, “I will never ask for anything else.”

“You can’t ask for this.”

He didn’t break, didn’t bend, even as her eyes turned icy, her voice tinged with betrayal. 

“I cannot believe that after all these years you care this little for me.”

“It’s _because_ I care about you that I won’t do it.”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

His fingers twitched at his side again, as though he wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know how. He shook his head, his own voice low and sincere.

“This isn’t you, Chloe. Taking a human life, _any_ human life… you’ll carry it with you forever. He doesn’t deserve to live, but you do. If you do this, it’ll destroy you and _trust_ me, that kind of darkness? You don’t come back from it.”

“ _He’s_ destroying me,” she fired back, her throat choked with tears, “he’s always, _always_ in my mind. What he did to me, what he _will_ do to me… don’t you understand? He’ll never stop. I can’t look over my shoulder my whole life. I _need_ it to stop.”

“I can’t.”

Her eyes hardened, steely and cold.

“You _won’t_ ,” she corrected.

He took a step back, lifting his jaw in firm finality.

“I won’t,” he confirmed.

Chloe realised she was crying when she felt wetness on her cheeks. She stubbornly brushed the tears away and set her jaw.

“Then I’ll do it myself.”

Something dark and dangerous swept over Lucifer’s face.

“Stay away from him.”

She pushed back against it, angry and upset. Deep down, in a rational part of her she couldn’t quite get to, she knew she was being unfair. She knew she couldn’t ask this of him—to take a human life, no matter how rotten that human was. She knew she didn’t want blood on her hands either. She was at a loss, a crossroads with two paths to despair.

Something intense and raw bubbled between them as he took another step towards her. He looked tense, every muscle coiled tight like springs under that expensive suit. He didn’t lose his temper often, but it was there, barely controlled and simmering under a tightly sealed lid.

“I mean it,” he added.

She narrowed her eyes, her heart beating a little faster.

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Damn it, Chloe!” he exploded finally, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I can’t lose you.”

She didn’t want to run away this time, to toe the line of implication, so she pushed a little further.

“Why? Because I’m such a _good assistant?_ ”

The look he gave her was heavy and significant.

“Because something has changed between us, and you know it.”

The words burned, pressing too tight and too close, and she went to brush past him. He grabbed her wrist instead, his fingers like a tight metal cuff, and pulled her back.

She opened her mouth to protest but found it quickly covered by his own.

She inhaled sharply as he kissed her, his hands flying up to cup her burning face. She buckled against him slightly, her knees giving way, but her surprise quickly melted into surrender. She didn’t have the strength, nor the inclination, to push him away.

His mouth slanted over hers desperately, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. He tasted like the rich whiskey he’d just drank and it was the kiss she had been waiting for since _she didn’t know when._ She thought this was a recent development but deep down, she wondered if she had been crazy about him for a very long time.

Everything moved quickly then, desperation and want flying like sparks from their fingertips. Her mouth didn’t disconnect with his as he pushed her back against the piano and she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, the fabric fluttering to the floor. The kiss turned messy—all tongues, teeth, heat and passion—as his hands curled around the backs of her thighs to haul her against him and then onto the piano.

He changed the angle of the kiss, his hands scrambling for purchase on the piano either side of her. She felt the sharp scrape of his teeth on her lips as he gave the bottom one a tug. She moaned, her blood turned to flames licking inside her, as she spread her legs and felt him step between them. 

Her hands flew to his hair, freeing it from product as her fingers threaded through thick, black strands. When she gripped and pulled, he released a heavy groan into her mouth. The sound shot straight between her legs and she tugged just to hear it again.

He broke away to drag his mouth to her cheek and then down her neck. She tipped her head back, her breath caught in her throat and her heart pounding, as he planted hot, open mouthed kisses down the length of her flushed skin.

His fingers bit into her waist as he pulled her closer until her ass was half off the piano and she was flush against him. Her thighs gripped his sides and she could feel him, _all of him,_ and he was hard and she was wet and she _wanted_ him. She wanted him so badly, for his hands to undo everything Jed had done, she was practically trembling with it.

In the moment, as her hands flew to his belt in a frantic attempt to unbuckle it, everything was moving too fast for her to process. There was no fear or confusion, no Jed and no painful history making her feel broken; there was only him.

 _Just_ him.

“Lucifer,” she panted.

He pulled back to look at her and his eyes were wild and dark, pupils blown to black. They flickered down to where her hands were still at his belt, her fingers paused against the buckle.

With everything slowed down, they seemed to come to their senses. She slowly brought her hands back to her lap and his own hands went to her thighs, desperate fingers curling around them just this side of too tight. He bowed his head.

They couldn’t ask each other what the hell that was. They couldn’t continue it or stop it completely or say they were sorry.

Because the elevator doors were opening, and then Adam was there, and then everything was black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit nervous about this one as I know people might have strong feelings about both Chloe and Lucifer’s decisions. I hope you can see it from both sides! Whether you think Chloe’s right or just plain irrational, there’s a reason behind her desperation. And I think Lucifer in any iteration wouldn’t be entirely comfortable murdering a human unless it was the last resort and he’d exhausted all other options. I also know Jed’s release is very convenient and “technicalities” might be a cop out but I’m a slut for the drama and I needed to bring him back, okay?! 😂


	13. Chapter 13

Chloe woke groggily, her eyes struggling to adjust to the light.

A sharp pain seared through her temples as she blinked. She shifted, the movement bringing attention to the tight cords fastened around her wrists. Panic bubbled inside her as the confusion gave way to clarity. She struggled in vain against the constraints, the frayed rope digging into her skin, and then tried to take in her surroundings.

She was in a cold and damp warehouse, one that looked to have been abandoned for a long time. Exposed pipes ran down the walls, water dripping from them in an eerie echo.

The wrought iron chair she was sitting in scraped across the floor as she continued to struggle. She glanced to the right and to her shock, saw Eve in the same situation, also blinking into consciousness.

"Chloe?"

Her melodic voice was crackly and hoarse from disuse, her brows furrowed in confusion.

She struggled a little too, blowing a stray strand of black hair from her face in exasperation when she didn't get anywhere.

"What's going on?"

Chloe shook her head, her eyes darting around for clues. She tried to wrack her brain for what had happened, her stomach dipping when she remembered Adam, and then dropping to the floor when she remembered Lucifer and that kiss. Guilt spread like a cold blanket over her skin as she looked at Eve again.

She knew their relationship wasn't exclusive, that it couldn't strictly be called cheating, but she also knew how she felt about him. Eve was in love with him and while they weren't exactly _best friends_ , it still didn't feel right to Chloe. She never wanted to hurt anyone.

She decided to put it to the back of her mind, focused on getting out of whatever the hell this was.

A TV screen in the corner of the room caught her attention, her eyes narrowing at its static crackle. The rope was biting into her wrists, the skin underneath red and raw. She threw her shoulder forward again but couldn't escape the restraints. She took a breath and tried to focus, her head snapping to the side when she heard the heavy door creak open.

Her eyes widened as Adam walked through it.

The noise that escaped Eve was close to a growl, her big eyes narrowing and her top lip curling.

"What the hell is this?" she spat.

Adam's smile was slow and calculating, cold and without affection. He walked between their chairs, ignoring their glares, and flicked a switch on the TV. Chloe withdrew a sharp intake of breath as Lucifer came onto the screen.

He was pacing in an empty warehouse similar to the one they were in, perhaps the _same_ one, and his eyes flashed to what must have been a matching TV on his end. He was wearing the same white shirt he'd been wearing before, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was without the jacket she had pushed off his shoulders as he'd lifted her onto the piano and stood between her thighs. She flushed again.

"Adam," his accent floated through the screen, calm but low, "what are you doing?"

Adam ignored him, turning to Eve instead.

"I told you he'll never care about you," he started, clasping his hands behind his back, "he'll never put you first. You didn't believe me. Now I'm going to _show_ you."

" _You_ didn't care about me!" Eve fired back, leaning forward in her chair and struggling with her own restraints, " _you_ never put me first - because I wasn't Lilith. I've only _ever_ been my true self around Lucifer. He doesn't want me to be anyone else."

"That doesn't mean your true self is enough for him," Adam said, "but it is for me. I told you, I made a mistake before. I took you for granted. I’ll never do that again," he suddenly turned, speaking to Lucifer who was pushing against the warehouse door, "I wouldn't bother. It's reinforced concrete. I'm aware it takes a little extra to hold the Devil."

He pushed off it with a grunt, anger flaring like a flame behind his dark eyes. Chloe watched it flicker and dance, specks of crimson shining through.

" _I swear to Dad_ —"

"Yes, I'm used to your threats," Adam rolled his eyes, his voice dry, "you do love to talk. The snake in the Garden, tempting my wife away… the charismatic nightclub owner, so very persuasive… the Prince of Lies… only, you _don't_ lie, do you?"

"I'm not lying when I say I will tear you limb from limb if you hurt them," Lucifer growled.

Adam ignored him, seemingly confident he couldn't be hurt with concrete and steel between them.

"So sorry to interrupt," Chloe chimed in then, her tone sarcastic, "but this really has nothing to do with me. Can I go?”

“It has _everything_ to do with you, Miss Decker,” Adam turned his attention to her, “and no, you can’t, because you’re the key.”

“The key to what?”

“To showing my lovely wife here that she is _not_ Lucifer’s priority,” Adam let it hang in the air, on a knife’s edge before he delivered the fatal blow, “ _you_ are.”

Chloe swallowed, her eyes shifting to Eve. To her surprise, she _didn’t_ look surprised. She looked resigned and deflated and Chloe remembered something she had said before—

_“Adam was right.”_

Like a light bulb going off, she suddenly realised what was happening. Adam had already planted these seeds of doubt in Eve’s mind, had played on her insecurities and used Chloe to manipulate her. Guilt settled like a heavy stone in Chloe’s chest as she thought of the kiss again. She thought of how close her and Lucifer were, how sometimes he looked at her like she was the only person in the room, how she knew he would rip the world apart just to get to her. She felt bad for Eve, sorry for her, and whatever the hell was going on with all of these relationships… they needed to be clarified.

She couldn’t stay in this grey area forever. It was hurting everyone.

“Adam,” Lucifer snapped through the TV, low and dangerous, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do,” Adam said and then reached into his pocket. Chloe’s eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of steel, “and for once, _you’re_ going to listen to me. You’re going to answer _my_ questions.”

“And why would I do that?”

Adam walked over to the screen and clearly held the gun to the camera.

“Is this reason enough?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw leaping as he clenched it.

“Fine,” he said eventually, quietly, “get on with it then.”

Adam grinned, clearly enjoying the power. Under different circumstances, Chloe would have rolled her eyes. She got the impression Adam was weak, small in Lucifer’s larger than life shadow. He was nervous where Lucifer was confident, dreary where Lucifer was enigmatic. When Lucifer walked into a room, everyone’s head turned, while no-one noticed Adam was there to begin with.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Adam sang, waving the gun slightly, “is your name Lucifer Morningstar?”

“Fuck off.”

He tutted in faux outrage.

“Now be a good Devil and answer,” he turned to Chloe and Eve and floated the gun between them, squinting as though it were a game and he was deciding who to shoot, “we wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt now, would we?”

Chloe’s back straightened, her heart starting to beat faster as the barrel of the gun pointed towards her.

“Alright, _y_ _es_ ,” Lucifer practically hissed, “you know that’s my bloody name.”

“Good,” Adam said, chipper, “now, next question. We’ll jump straight into it. If I were to tell you this gun has _one_ bullet,” he aimed it at Chloe before slowly pointing it towards Eve, “and so only _one_ person can walk free… who would you choose to save?”

“You’re disgusting,” Eve whispered, her voice choked and betrayed, as Lucifer’s expression hardened.

A flicker of something real passed over Adam’s face before he sniffed and lifted his chin in stubborn defiance.

“I’m waiting,” he called out to the screen behind him, keeping his eyes and gun on Eve.

“I’m not answering that,” Lucifer insisted, his voice full of conviction, “I’m not pitting them against each other. You’re pathetic.” 

A muscle under Adam’s eye twitched. He swung around to wave the gun at Lucifer, as though he could reach through the screen.

“You _have_ to answer!” he raised his voice petulantly, “she has to _see_. You can’t lie!”

“I didn’t lie.”

Chloe waited uneasily for Adam’s reaction, nervous as he was more than a little unhinged. She was unsurprised by Lucifer’s response; he was an expert in avoiding the question, in finding loopholes and wrapping a lie up in a bluff.

“Fine,” Adam spat, “I’ll be more direct. Do you love Eve?”

Silence fell over them for a moment, awkward and tense, before Adam clarified something before Lucifer could talk his way out of it—

“Are you _in_ love with Eve?”

Chloe’s eyes dragged to the other woman, her heart in her throat as she watched her reaction.

“Darling…” Lucifer murmured heavily, “ _Eve_. I care about you so much—”

“—it’s alright,” Eve interrupted him, her shoulders tense, “just answer the question, Lucifer.”

Adam cocked the gun, the click deafeningly loud, as though to remind him of the consequences should he refuse.

Chloe counted a full thirty seconds of painful silence before he finally answered.

“No."

Chloe’s chest felt too tight as she looked at a hurt Eve again. Silvery tear tracks glittered on her flushed cheeks as she closed her eyes.

“What are you _gaining_ from this?” Chloe blurted out angrily, her voice dripping with disgust, “you think this will send her running back to you? You think she’ll just forgive you for tying her up and pointing a gun at her? You’re pitiful. No wonder she gave up _literal heaven_ to get away from you.”

Once the red mist of her rage had descended, silence falling over them again, Chloe’s eyes zeroed in on the gun and she kicked herself for her temper. She shifted in the uncomfortable chair, the ropes around her wrists biting into her skin as she did so.

“You’re quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” Adam said slowly, a humourless grin twisting his lips, “I can see why he likes you. I’ve been watching you both. For weeks, actually. I’ve seen how close you are, how you make him vulnerable. It’s how I knew I could only knock him out and get him here when he was close to you.”

Chloe swallowed, averting her eyes to the cold, damp floor. She could practically feel the heat of Eve’s inquisitive gaze on her, knew it was brand new information to her, and she didn’t want to see Lucifer’s reaction either. She was burning under the implication of it all, ripped out from underneath her.

“And what do you think that _means_ Miss Decker?” Adam drawled, “what’s the term for that?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, setting her jaw.

“Fuck you, Adam.”

“No, I don’t think it’s that,” he said dryly before turning his attention on Lucifer, “maybe _you_ can help. Answer me this. Are you in love with Chloe?”

Chloe inhaled sharply, feeling a vice around her heart. The atmosphere seemed thinner, all the air sucked out of the room, and tears burned inexplicably behind her eyes.

She watched the movement of Lucifer’s chest as he took what looked to be a painful breath. His eyes were dark and guarded but they flashed with anger when Adam took a step towards her and held the gun to her.

“ _Don’t,_ " he growled.

Adam seemed pleased.

“Look how _angry_ he is,” he boasted to Eve, “not quite the reaction _you_ got, was it? Answer the question, Lucifer, or your little _Robin_ here will chirp no more. Do you love her?”

Chloe watched him through watery eyes, the seconds ticking by, tense and momentous.

The denial didn’t roll off his tongue the way it did when he was asked about Eve.

The silence was deafening and everything had changed.

“I…”

Before he could answer, the heavy door behind them slammed open and off its hinges. Chloe struggled to make sense of the things that happened then, all competing for attention. There was a black and grey blur, grunts and screams and what sounded like the slash of blades, and then Adam was on the floor and Maze’s spiked heel was pressed against his throat.

“Sorry it took me so long,” she chirped casually, digging the point in deeper, “you were hard to track down.”

Chloe wasn’t sure who she was referring to. Before, she would have said Lucifer, without a doubt. He was her boss and her best friend and the one person she always swore to protect. She had followed him through the gates of hell, after-all. She always knew his whereabouts and she always wanted to keep him safe.

But Chloe knew she had a soft spot for Eve now and while Maze was selfish and rash, she was also fiercely loyal and protective of the ones she loved. Maybe she had been tracking Lucifer, or maybe Eve, or maybe even _her_. Maybe it was all three of them.

Either way, she was _here_ —and Adam was bleeding out.

“I wasn’t going to hurt them,” he croaked out, gesturing to the gun on the floor next to him with his eyes, “it’s not even loaded.”

Maze raised a brow and quickly grabbed the weapon. She put her foot back on his throat as she examined it and saw what he said was true.

“Just wanted to prove a point,” Adam spoke again, vocal cords restricted, “you can’t kill me.”

Maze huffed humourlessly, dark eyes flickering to the blood oozing from various slashes on his body. He was already halfway dead.

“Yes, that whole _not killing humans_ thing?” Lucifer spoke through the screen, his voice low and dangerous, “not really a big deal for demons.”

“And you don’t count,” Maze finished for her boss, black tipped nails tapping along the gun’s edge.

Adam’s chest rose and fell slowly with each staggered breath before he _smiled._

“At least Eve knows the truth now,” he whispered to the hurt woman who refused to even look at him, “I’ll go home and wait for her.”

“Home?” Maze repeated, her tone lined with humour, “the pearly gates?” she grinned, her eyes flickering to Lucifer on the screen.

His own eyes had turned red, hellfire burning through them.

“What makes you think you’re going back there?”

His voice sent a chill racing down Chloe’s spine. Adam’s eyes widened in realisation, shaking his head as though to say he felt no guilt, but then his body went limp.

They watched him close his eyes and sink into the unknown, leaving only the devastation he had caused in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, the drama! poor Eve :( don't worry, we'll make amends/give her some happiness in the future :)


End file.
